Keep Talking
by KeelieM
Summary: A major crimes fan fiction focusing on Captain Sharon Raydor , her girlfriend Samantha, and troubled teen Rusty, who unexpectedly alters the course of their lives. For better or for worse? Rated M for some material in later chapters...
1. Chapter 1

**AN: **This is my first fan fiction to actually follow through with posting. It is a major crimes fic, but there's no section for major crimes yet…  
This first section in bold is basically the final scene from Reloaded. It's almost exactly the same except one or two sentences. So…I don't want to take credit for any of that in bold. I really just typed it up to set the scene, and it inspired me to write the story. I also wanted a part in the dialogue between Sharon and Rusty where she tells him very in a matter of fact way that she doesn't live alone, and she does have a girlfriend. Anyway, I hope this doesn't suck.

_**Keep Talking**_

_**"Don't think I'm going to be all like thankful for you taking me in," Rusty said as he pulled the mysterious foil wrapped treat from his sack and placed it on the coffee table in front of him. "Oh trust me," the captain started as she uncorked her bottle of red wine, "you are not the first adolescent to grace my home with your presence. Having raised two teenagers of my own, I have a tremendous capacity for ingratitude. Rusty, it's so funny just when you get good at being a mother, you're fired." Sharon leaned over the back of the sofa, where the teenager sat, and sipped her wine. "Or you quit," Rusty quickly retorted. Sharon's face fell ever so slightly, and Rusty rolled his eyes at the police Captain's sad attempts at conversation. Sharon stood up straighter. "So, what are we supposed to call each other anyway?" "Well," Sharon answered as she made her way to the red chair beside the couch, "You can call me Captain Raydor." Of course, Rusty thought. Just as well he'd much rather this be a working relationship. He wanted the Captain to know that his only reason for being there was to make sure she kept up the deal he had made with Brenda: keep searching until his mother was found. **_

_** "Okay," he said, "Then you can call me Mr. Beck." "You are the child in this relationship." "No, I am the witness. If you are the police captain then I am the witness." "There are not a lot of people around here who call me by my first name." "Oh, then maybe that's why you live alone with a spare bedroom." Not going to let his sour attitude get to her, Sharon smiled. She liked this kid and she respected that he wanted so badly to find his mother. "My children are grown; the spare bedroom is for when they visit. I live with my partner. She's working right now, but you will most likely meet her tomorrow. And you may call me Sharon. How's that?" This time Rusty's face fell ever so slightly. "Sharon? What is that like your bad idea of a joke or something?" "Why do you say that?" She asked. "Sharon is my mother's name," Rusty stated sternly. **_

_** Oops, Sharon thought. She took a breath and quickly tried to think of exactly what to say in order to start walking back her previous sentence. All she could come up with was a low, understanding, "Oh." "God," Rusty said angrily, "You haven't been looking for her at all have you?" He stood up using one crutch for support and hastily placed his backpack over his shoulders. "Rusty," Sharon tried to reason, "I just got this job yesterday. Give me a chance to catch up. I am making a good faith effort. I am." Rusty just rolled his eyes and settled on his crutches. "Where's your bathroom?" "It's right down there," Sharon said, pointing toward the hallway. Rusty turned and headed in the direction of Sharon's finger. Sharon stood to follow, not wanting the teenager to leave thinking that she wasn't serious about finding his mother. "Rusty." At the sound of his name, Rusty stopped and turned so that half of his body was facing her and half was still running away. Hands placed professionally behind her back, in perfect police posture, Sharon stopped her pursuit. "If it is possible to find your mother, I will do it. I promise." "Sure you will, Captain. Sure you will." With that, Rusty continued his way to the bathroom and slammed the door. **_

Sharon sighed and sunk into the sofa, pillow cuddled to her chest. With the day she had, she just needed a minute to collect her thoughts. She lay her head on the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling for a moment before shutting her eyes. After taking fire from all sides all day, she was physically and emotionally exhausted. Of course she hadn't expected the team to accept her leadership amicably, but she certainly hadn't thought they would be so openly opposed to her. After all, she was only trying to do her job. Now, not only had she gotten a major promotion and taken in an abandoned teen all in the same day, but she hadn't even informed Sam, her partner, of the teenager's presence in their home. The captain had no idea what would come of that situation, as she finished her glass of wine, and fell asleep to the sounds of Rusty getting ready for bed.

Samantha quietly opened the door to their apartment, and gently closed it behind her. She didn't want to wake Sharon, should she be sleeping. She set her keys on the counter and her bag on the chair placed under the bar, then moved to the fridge to get a water. A sweet smile spread across her features when she turned around to find Sharon in a sitting position on the sofa, her face to the ceiling, feet on the floor. _That cannot be comfortable. _She thought as she tiptoed to the couch to place a soft kiss to her Sharon's slightly parted lips before gently removing the glasses resting on her partner's face. Sharon's eyes fluttered open, and she smiled that crooked smile that Samantha loved. "Hi," she said softly, apparently still hazy from her short nap. "Well hi," Sam said, "Long day at the office?" She questioned as she removed her shoes and climbed over the back of the sofa in order to sit cross legged next to Sharon, who was repositioning herself as well. As she stretched her legs over Sam's and leaned her side into the back of the couch, Sharon couldn't remember what it was that she was supposed to be talking to Sam about. "Absolutely," She answered. Yes, there was something, but the soothing circles Sam was rubbing into the back of her calf distracted the captain. "The guys still giving you a hard time, huh?" Sam asked. "Oh, absolutely," she repeated. Then she remembered. She sat up straighter, and just as she was about to let Sam in on their house guest, he hopped into the room on his crutches, blanket and pillow in tow.

Sam's expression went from shock to confusion, as she watched the obviously angry teenager place his pillow behind Sharon, who was now sitting straight up with her feet on the floor. "I was just about to tell you…This is Rusty. He's going to be staying with us while—" "You haven't even told her that I'm here," Rusty interrupted. "Well, I was getting to it. I thought you were asleep. What are you doing?" She asked in her usual calm manner of speaking. She and Sam both stood up as Rusty continued to hobble around the couch, making his bed. "Going to sleep," he said, "Obviously." "Okay, but the guest room is—" " A perfectly good place to tuck me away, so you don't have to think about finding my mother. No, I think I'll sleep out here." Sharon looked to Sam to try to gauge her reaction, but couldn't get a read. Samantha was watching the scene unfold, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. Dark brown eyes looked to Sharon and motioned to the hallway. With Rusty now facing the back of the sofa, apparently this would be the end of the conversation, she let it be for now and led the way to the bedroom.

Sam shut the bedroom door behind them, and turned to face Sharon. It was sometimes hard to read what Sam was feeling, but if Sharon had to guess from the look on her face and the frantic pacing, she'd say she was annoyed, confused, or possibly…_angry_? "So you invited a teenager with a broken leg into our home without consulting me? Is that the situation?" Sam didn't sound exactly angry. She was trying to figure out what was going on before getting angry. The pacing over for the moment, the dark haired, dark eyed beauty was standing still with her arms folded in front of her chest, waiting for an explanation from Sharon. "It would seem that way," Sharon defended herself, "I tried to call you, but it was such a hectic day—" "I spoke with you just a few hours ago… you could have mentioned that you were going to be bringing a teenager home with you," Sam interrupted. Interrupted, that seem to be the theme of Sharon's day. Sam untied her hair, and let the black locks fall past her shoulders, and Sharon unbuttoned her black blazer and put her hands on her hips, "I spoke to you on the phone more than a few hours ago, before I decided to bring Rusty home. He had nowhere to go. He's just been kicked out of his foster home. He needs a place to stay where he can keep out of trouble before he goes to trial…and while Major Crimes searches for his mom." "_You've_ already decided he's staying," Sam said. She rolled her eyes and went to the closet to search for a change of clothes, which was odd to Sharon considering her girlfriend always slept naked. Forgetting that for a moment…"Okay," Sharon understood, "You're upset that I didn't consult you on this. I get it, I'm sorry." She took Sam's hand in hers and spun her around to face her. "I am sorry. Please, don't _you _be angry with me as well." Sharon kissed Sam's hand and looked into her eyes lovingly, and Samantha couldn't help but melt at that, as she rolled her eyes again. "I'm not angry, okay," she said as she took her hand from Sharon's, "I just would like to feel like I have a say in what goes on in this house. I know I only moved in a few weeks ago, but this is supposed to be my home as well." Sharon nodded her head understandingly. "It is your home. If you don't want him here, I will tell CPS to find him a new foster home." Sharon rubbed Samantha's arms, and her demeanor softened under Sharon's touch. Well, that was it wasn't it, the kid was staying. Samantha couldn't very well send the kid back to CPS after all Sharon had told her about him. Most people thought Samantha to be cold hearted, but it simply wasn't the case. "And that's exactly what I was going to tell you, before he barged into the middle of our conversation." "We weren't in the middle of a conversation," Samantha corrected. "I was getting there," Sharon protested.

Sam sighed in defeat. It wasn't like she minded the kid staying tonight, and she didn't want to argue with Sharon. "He's fine here tonight. He just got kicked out of a foster home," She contemplated, "Just let's sleep on it." Sharon smiled at her, and Sam smiled back, before returning her attention to the closet.

"What are you doing?" Sharon laughed. "I don't know," Sam answered dropping her hands to her sides, tossing the clothing she had gathered for herself on the floor. "You don't wear pajamas," Sharon mused.  
"I know."


	2. Chapter 2

Sunlight beamed into the dark bedroom; the rays harshly burned through Samantha's eyelids causing her to wake up before she normally would have. She slowly opened her eyes to find the curtains wide open. "Ugh," she groaned and turned on her side away from the offending light. Sam was anything but a morning person. Lazily, she reached for Sharon, but was disappointed to find cold sheets instead of soft, warm skin. This was not a good start to her day. She opened her eyes and looked around the room, but Sharon was nowhere to be found. The clock read 6:26; she wouldn't be at work this early. Just as she was preparing to get out of bed and search for the brunette, the missing woman came sauntering through the doorway, coffee mug in hand. "Good morning," Sharon beamed. "Awe, I hate morning people," Sam grumpily replied. "I know. Here…" Sharon handed her the coffee mug. Black, just like she loved it. "Thank you, baby." Sam sipped the sweet nectar and felt her morning perk up. "Come here," she instructed Sharon.

Sharon followed instruction and sat next to Sam on the bed. Kisses were exchanged before Sam reluctantly pulled away and directed her attention back to the coffee mug. "How is our houseguest this morning?" She asked. "Still sleeping," Sharon answered and focused on the light, circular patterns the pad of her thumb had begun tracing against Samantha's bare thigh. The attention wasn't lost on Sam, but she didn't let on. "We need to talk about what we're going to do with him," Sam said. "Yes we do," Sharon agreed, "Because if he will be staying here, I'll have to talk to CPS and get some sort of temporary emergency care set up; he'll have to start school somewhere. And if not—" "No, please. If you decided to bring him home last night… Well, you had your reasons…And I'm okay if you want him to stay for like…" Sam stopped here. She didn't particularly like teenagers, this Sharon knew, she didn't want to commit to anything too long. Sensing her hesitation, Sharon decided to reassure her. "Look if CPS were to get an emergency care situation set up, it would probably only be for a few weeks. I am going to be working very hard to locate his mother, which is all he cares about by the way." "Well, finding his mother doesn't necessarily mean anything..." Sam said. She remembered Sharon telling her before that his mother had abandoned him. Not exactly the behavior of a woman who wanted to raise a child.

"I know, but who knows what will happen once we find her." Sharon tried to keep an open mind and a positive attitude, but she knew what her girlfriend meant. It was very likely that Rusty's mother wouldn't want to be found. "I'm fine," Sam reassured her girlfriend, "Go ahead with the CPS thing." "Okay," Sharon nodded, "Now..." Sharon moved her hand higher up Sam's thigh and moved in closer. "Kiss me again."

Samantha obeyed the Captain's order and closed the gap between them. Banishing the mug to the coffee table freed her hands to roam around her lover's chest in search of the buttons on her gray night shirt. Before she could unclasp the first button, Sharon's ringtone sounded from the dresser. Samantha groaned as Sharon apologetically moved to answer it.

"Captain Raydor," Sharon's voice was low and professional. Come to think of it Sharon's tone was always professional. Sam ignored the office talk and threw on Sharon's LAPD t-shirt and a pair of black underwear before heading to the shower. On her way to the bathroom, she peeked around the corner at the sleeping teenager on her sofa; he was out.

It was just as well that their morning was interrupted. Sam really needed to be getting to work, and she easily would have let their little make out session escalate. Not that she wasn't willing to sacrifice being at work on time for sexy stolen moments with Sharon, but Rusty _was _in the next room. The shower was hot and steaming by the time Sam discarded her clothes and was ready to step in. Hot droplets reddened her skin, as she let her face and long black hair be drenched. When she was finished with the shower, she returned to the bedroom to find Sharon already completely dressed in her professionally tailored gray pin stripe suit. The sexiness of her girlfriend in her Captain Raydor attire never escaped Sam, and she tried her best to let Sharon know when she thought an outfit was particularly pleasing. "That is my favorite suit on you," Samantha said and let the towel drop to her feet. Sharon laughed and replied, "And _that_ is my favorite suit on you." At that, Sam stepped closer to her captain and covered her lips with her own. Sharon didn't let the kiss deepen as much as Sam would have liked. "That was Chief Taylor on the phone. I have to go to work, but keep that in mind," Sharon said as she brushed a finger across Sam's lips. _Okay, fine. _Sam thought. "Is it a murder?" She asked. "No, he just wants to see me in his office," Sharon shrugged. "What are you going to do about the couch potato in the next room?" Samantha asked. "I mean, he can't stay here alone."

"I will take him to work with me, and while I'm there I'll give CPS a call and see if I can't get something set up here for Rusty," Sharon said, "You _are _okay with this?" Samantha pulled on a pair of black loose fitting slacks and a black tank. Her dark, wet hair fell past her shoulders, and Sharon couldn't help but stare.

Sometimes she had trouble believing that this beautiful young woman was content joining her life with someone of a considerably older age. It would seem to an outsider that the two were total opposites and in many respects they were. Sharon was rigid and by the book, a rule follower. She joined the police academy right out of college and worked her way up from there. Eventually, she made her way to Internal Affairs and working her way up the ranks, and she was good at her job. A police captain first these days, Sharon Raydor had always been a workaholic, which was something she and her lover had in common. She married her husband young. They separated twenty years earlier but never actually divorced. With him, Sharon parented two daughters and a son. She was Catholic, although in the loosest sense of the term. One would say, her life had been straight and narrow.

Samantha's life had been anything but straight and narrow. She had always been a bit loose with the rules and the law. A teenage runaway, Sam had a tougher time than most in her early years. In her youth, she had been arrested several times: as a teenager for vandalism associated with tagging buildings and billboards, breaking and entering, public drunkenness, etc. She had been arrested twice in her late twenties during protests for two separate animal rights groups. She considered herself an activist in every sense of the word, and she was quite popular for her work with several nationally recognized environmental organizations. She managed to calm down long enough to put herself through college, majored in journalism. After which, she created and was now the soul editor, of _Domain _magazine. The magazine, originally intended as an environmental magazine, had since grown into a full blown news magazine that covered politics, current events, music, art, health, and science. The magazine had quite a strong readership and was in the process of going national. Sam knew she was a lesbian at a very young age, and as such, she'd dated many women. None of them were ever as grown up or sophisticated as Sharon, and it still surprised her friends that of all people Sam had fallen for a cop. She never had any serious relationships, not like Sharon had. She never married or had children, nor had she ever had the desire to. It was safe to say that at the age of thirty-nine Samantha had finally found, in Sharon, her perfect match. All her issues of commitment evaporated as soon as she started seeing the woman. Even with all they didn't have in common, Sharon made Samantha happier than she had ever been with anybody else. Which was why she wasn't going to argue with her about Rusty. She could tell that Sharon really wanted to help the boy, and if Sharon wanted it, she wanted it. That's how it worked right?

"Sharon, I said I was fine with this whole thing. You don't have to keep asking," Samantha reassured her captain, "I think it's good what you're doing with this kid, honestly. I know what it's like to have parents that don't care. When I was younger, I would have given anything to have been taken in by a kind, sexy, police captain. And I probably would have been in less trouble." Sharon sighed and rolled her eyes at her girlfriend, "Oh, shut up," she shushed her bashfully. With a smile, Samantha leaned in and kissed Sharon's lips softly. It was a short, reassuring kiss.

"Okay…" Sharon said, "Who is going to wake him up?" Samantha laughed and threw up her hands. "Definitely not me. I am no good with kids, especially teenagers. And I've got to go." Samantha pulled on her shoes and walked through the house into the kitchen, searching for her keys.

"Hold on. It's only seven o'clock. You never leave here before nine." Sharon thought she was running out of the house to avoid Rusty. Which wasn't _totally_ true; she did have work that needed to be done at the office. Sam spotted her keys on the counter where she'd left them the night before. "I'm meeting with an artist at eight. My sister wants me to meet him; she tells me he's a god." "Your sister thinks that everyone she sleeps with is a god," Sharon retorted, air quotes on the word god, "Does she want him on the cover or something?" Sam shook her head. "Or something," she said, "Usually, I'd have Kara meet with a potential artist, but it's my sister's boyfriend. I want to meet him. I promised her I'd do her this favor and consider him for a position in graphics." Sharon nodded her head, and with a smile and a quick kiss to the cheek, Samantha was out the door.

"So, why am I up so early? Am I going to be following you around like 24/7 now or something?" Rusty asked Sharon. Sharon kept her eyes on the road in front of her. It had been a pain trying to get the teenager to wake up so early, and his constant bratty attitude was giving her a headache. "No, you cannot be alone in my house—" Rusty interrupted, "Oh, your girlfriend doesn't want me there." Sharon chose to ignore that statement for the moment. "Your care situation means that you need adult supervision around the clock. Besides, we have things to do."

"Things?" Rusty asked. "Like searching for my mother?"  
"Well, yes. We are searching for your mother. In the meantime, we have to get you into school," Sharon said, almost cheerily. The mother in her was resurfacing. "School? Why? If you're really looking for my mother, then I won't be here long enough to go to school here."

"It is against the law for you to be out of school, and we will follow the law," Sharon said.  
"Whatever," Rusty huffed. The rest of the ride to the office was silent.

"You're late," Sam addressed her sister without looking up from the paperwork on her desk.  
"I know and I'm sorry. Blake is downstairs getting himself together; he's very nervous," her sister defended. "Sara, this one is normal right?" Samantha never liked any of her younger sister's boyfriends. Sara always went for the dark, mysterious, broken, drunken, starving artist types. "He's fine. He just loves the magazine is all," Sara reassured her sister. "Cool… where is he? Should we go check on him?" Sam asked. "No, he said he'd be up shortly. What's wrong with you, sister?" Sara asked. Apparently she'd picked up on Sam's short tone.

"What? Nothing." Sam answered. _What grown man brings his girlfriend with him on a job interview? _Samantha thought to herself. "You're not judging him already are you? I hate when you do that. Just give him a chance." Sara pleaded. "No, I'm sorry you're right. It's fine." "Something is on your mind. I can tell. You've got that squinting, wheels turning in your head sort of look," Sara pressed. Samantha sighed, "It's nothing… I mean it's…No, I'm fine with it. I'm just thinking is all…"

After a short silence and some intense glaring from her sister, Sam gave in. "Sharon brought home a teenager from work last night, and I don't know I'm just thinking about it, okay. Jesus, you're like a vulture." "A teenager?" Sara questioned, "From where?" "Yes, his name is Rusty. He's a witness in a trial. Sharon is looking for his mother, and I guess in the meantime he's staying with us." "Ooh…and you hate teenagers," Sara said with a simultaneous nod. It looked as if she should have a light bulb illustrated above her head. "I don't hate anyone," Sam protested, "I just prefer to spend my time with adults."

"No, you hate kids. You always have. Even when you were one," Sara laughed. "No, it's not that. I don't know he seemed so angry last night. I haven't even spoken to him yet, come to think of it," Sam said, "I don't know." "Well, he's a person not just a teenager. Give the kid a chance. If he lost his mother, he's probably got good reason to be angry. You were once an angry teenager yourself."

Samantha sighed, "I guess. I was just getting used to living with Sharon, just the two of us, you know…I feel like somebody crashed the honeymoon," Sam pouted. "That's childish… I guess," she concluded. Then, she noticed through the glass window surrounding the office a young, blond headed man in a brown leather jacket. "Speaking of giving people chances," She said and motioned her head toward the man currently speaking to Jenny, the receptionist. Sara turned around and rolled her eyes, "Finally."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thank you for your feedback. It's very encouraging.**

**Chapter 3**

"Of course, you know that Rusty will need to be enrolled in some type of school," Cynthia, Rusty's case worker from DCFS, told Sharon and Sam. "Of course," Sharon replied, "In fact, I've been getting things set up for him to attend St. Joseph's. Rusty will need to pass the placement test, which I am confident he will." "Sharon's been having him study all week," Samantha chimed in. Two weeks had passed since Rusty had come to stay, and the teenager's attitude showed little improvement. Sharon could tell that Sam had almost reached the end of her rope with the boy, not that Sam would ever admit it. She didn't know if Sam was ever going to stop pretending that the kid wasn't driving her crazy, but it would happen. Sam was the kind of person that fired back, and she was showing incredible restraint with Rusty. What Sharon did know was that she couldn't abandon Rusty now. He desperately needed someone on his side, and Sharon was going to help this kid if it killed her.

"Good," Cynthia said. "How do you feel about that, Rusty?" She asked. Rusty sat on the sofa with his arms folded. "I feel like school is a waste of time, and my time would be better spent looking for my mom," Rusty protested. From beside her came a heavy sigh, and Sharon placed her hand on Sam's knee. She knew that her girlfriend was biting her tongue a lot these days and at times Sharon felt like she was living with a ticking time bomb. Maybe it was all in her head, and Sam wasn't actually biting her tongue as hard as she thought. To Sam's credit, she was doing a very good job suppressing her emotions. Only Sharon could tell she was irritated at the moment.

The adults moved on to the guest room where Rusty would be staying so that Cynthia could closer inspect; Rusty followed along. "This isn't bad at all," Cynthia commented as she paced around the bedroom. Her eyes seemed to land on every surface, from the artwork on the wall, to the lampshade, to the alarm clock on the nightstand. Sharon and Sam exchanged a hesitant look before Sharon's phone buzzed from inside her pocket. "Excuse me," Sharon addressed the rest of the room. "Oh, please," Cynthia approved. With a polite nod, Sharon spoke into the speaker, "Captain Raydor…Yes, Lieutenant I am aware, but I am in the middle of something involving our material witness."

"I see," Sharon went on, "Did he die from the brain injuries or did he bleed out?" Cynthia seemed to be beautifully ignoring the conversation until Sharon asked if the head was still attached. At which point she looked up questioningly from her notepad.

* * *

"See," Rusty spoke up, "This is no environment for a child." Sam was just about to defend her home, but when Cynthia brushed off Rusty's statement, she knew she didn't have to. This whole thing was rather strange for Sam, and she didn't quite know where she fit in. "Are these your clothes?" Cynthia had made her way to the closet. "No," Rusty answered, "They make me keep all of my clothes in trash bags." "Hey, that is not true," Sam defended. "I have three grown children; they leave these things here for when they visit, and the suit belongs to my husband. We have asked Rusty to bring his things in here, but he won't," Sharon said, as she held her cell phone away from her ear. Rusty's was an expression of shock. Sam subtly put her hand to her forehead in frustration. Why Sharon had brought up her would be ex-husband was beyond her. The woman was a little too honest and matter-of-fact at times. "Your husband?" Cynthia asked. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I thought that Ms. Grey here was the only other person listed on the application for emergency foster care." "No, you are correct. I am the only person listed—" Samantha tried to answer Cynthia before Rusty interrupted, he had made a habit of ignoring Sam's presence the past couple of days. "Wait, somebody _married you_… a man?" Rusty asked in disbelief. Sam resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Sharon's husband was not a topic she enjoyed talking about. "My husband and I have been legally separated for two decades," Sharon explained. "He does not live here," Sam interjected, "I _assure _you."

Sharon jumped at the sound of Provenza's voice over the speaker of her cell. "Uhm...Why don't we, the three of us, step into the other room for a moment," Sam helpfully suggested. Cynthia nodded her head understandingly, and Sam caught Sharon's expression of gratitude. As they stepped into the hallway, Sharon politely excused herself.

"Do you see how bossy they are?" Rusty huffed. "You've got a pretty nice set up here Rusty," Cynthia reasoned, "Quiet, you've got your own room, cable, DVR—" "That's not my room," Rusty protested. "I wouldn't mind living here, myself," she continued. Sam stood back and watched the exchange, her hands behind her back like she was being handcuffed. This kid was getting to her more than he should have been. The first couple of days, Sam had tried to reach out to Rusty. She tried to talk to him and make polite conversation, but he wasn't having it. It was rather awkward between them. Then, the house was messy. It was teenage boy messy, and she couldn't handle the mess. It was like he thought that only what Sharon said mattered; she was the one who would find his mother. Not that he had any trouble talking back to Sharon. Maybe Sharon just dealt with it better. She was the more mature and experienced one when it came to dealing with kids.

"Sorry, Cynthia. Where were we?" Sharon asked as she confidently strode back into the conversation. Sam breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her girlfriend, who stopped right beside Sam and placed her hand on the small of her back, a reassuring gesture. "Just finishing up, Captain, and from what I can tell, Rusty is in good hands here. And DCFS is very grateful to you."

* * *

"No, you are happy to lock me up until I testify in your stupid murder trial, which is why nobody is bothering to look for my mom." Rusty angrily protested. His gaze focused on Sharon. He didn't like where this was going. He knew that living here was indeed better than the streets, but he desperately needed people to see that he needed to find his mother. He needed to find her and be with her again; that was where he belonged. The captain had yet to show him proof of her search, and as far as he could tell the police were just using him. "Rusty…" Cynthia tried to reason.

"The first chance I get, I'm going to leave and find her myself," he told Sharon. "Would you rather I spend my time looking for your mother or you?" Sharon quipped. "He's not going anywhere this week," Cynthia declared, "Because technically Rusty is in emergency care." "Meaning he still needs 24/7 supervision?" Sam asked. "Exactly, what do you plan to do with him while you're at work?"

Rusty sat at the table in the break room and stared blankly at the screen in front of him. He had absolutely no interest in enrolling in this Catholic school, but if pretending to comply with Sharon's request kept him closer to her and kept her searching for his mother, like she claimed she was, he would do it. What choice did he have? He had spent most of his day moving from the murder room to the break room. It was kind of an interesting place to be, he had to admit, and he was having a hard time focusing. Rusty clicked on the minus sign in the top right corner of the school's web page and pulled up Google. He typed the name Sharon Eileen Beck into the search bar and hit enter.

"Okay, Rusty." _Great. _He thought when he heard woman's voice. He looked up from the monitor to find Sharon leaning against the doorframe. "Are you ready to head out?" She asked him.  
"I guess so," he said as he closed out the web pages and shut down the laptop. "Did you find the killer?" He asked the Captain as he quickly gathered his things, and they walked toward the elevator. He couldn't help but be curious about the man in the photos with the bashed in skull. "Not yet, but we will," Sharon answered him confidently. He nodded his head and was silent the rest of the way to the parking garage.

Once they were in the car, it was Sharon who broke the silence. "Sam told me to call when we were on our way home. She wants to order out for dinner. Is there anything in particular you would like?" She asked. "No, whatever you guys decide is fine. Don't let me intrude on your dinner plans," he replied sarcastically. "Rusty, you're not intruding." "Please, it's obvious your girlfriend does not want me there. I can tell when someone is uncomfortable around me," he said. "Well, you _have_been giving her a hard time," Sharon responded. "It doesn't matter. I won't be around any longer than necessary. Once I find my mom, you won't have to worry about me being in your space any longer," he said with finality. Sharon sighed, a noise he was beginning to get used to around the two women. "I'm only trying to help you, Rusty," she said.

* * *

"Hey," Sam greeted them from the kitchen as they entered the door. Rusty headed straight for the living room and plopped down on the sofa. Sharon walked to the counter and sat at the bar. "You didn't call, so I just got Chinese. I don't know if Rusty likes Chinese or—" "I'm not hungry. I'm going to shower," Rusty yelled from the other room. They heard the bathroom door shut, and Sharon smiled sympathetically at Sam, who was giving her a hesitant look. "Okay," Sam said breathing deeply, "Chinese is fine." "Thank you," Sharon told her as she walked around the counter and pecked Sam on the lips. "No problem. How was your day?" Sam asked. "Oh, fine. You know, people killing each other. Unhappy teenager lurking in the corner." Sharon shrugged. She reached into the cabinet and retrieved two wine glasses, which she set in front of her on the counter. "Speaking of," Sam said, "How's it going with the search for his mom?" Sharon sighed, "Well, nothing yet. But I've got a want out for her and her boyfriend. We're tracking a card registered in her name. It should be any day now." Sharon thought she saw a glimmer of hope in Sam's eye and smiled. "Don't get too excited, okay. I haven't found her yet. And you know," Sharon said, lowering her voice, "He can tell that you are irritated with him." "Well, of course I'm irritated with him," Sam whispered back, "His things are everywhere. He completely ignores me, and he's absolutely disrespectful. And have you noticed that we haven't had sex since he got here. _Two weeks_, Sharon."

"Hey, that is not… Is that why…" Sharon looked around the corner to make sure Rusty wasn't there, "It's not like I haven't tried," Sharon reminded Sam. Sharon had tried to initiate things a few times, only to be turned down. "Look, I can't do it with him in the next room, okay. It's weird," Sam defended. Sharon smirked, "What's the matter?" Sharon asked and moved closely behind Sam. She placed her hands on Sam's hips, pressing her front against the counter. "You can't be quiet?" She whispered in Sam's ear. Sam wriggled away and grabbed a bottle of wine from the cabinet. "No, I can be quiet. I just don't want to," Sam huffed as she uncorked the bottle of red wine and poured a glass for herself and for Sharon. "Well, you need to get over it soon," Sharon stated simply, "Because all this sexual frustration is making you snippy, and it's not putting me in the best mood either." Sam smirked and rolled her eyes playfully as she handed Sharon her glass. They moved to the dining room table with their dinner. "He thinks you don't like him," Sharon continued, once she made sure she could still hear the shower running down the hall. "I like him. It's not that I don't like him." Sharon looked at her girlfriend in disbelief. "I don't like his attitude…" Sam said. Sharon gave Sam an apprehensive glance. She really wanted everyone to get along and try to make the best of the situation. Didn't Sam understand this? "I'll talk to him, okay. I will. I don't want him to feel unwelcome here. Really, I don't." Sam said. "Okay…thank you."

After dinner, each of the three retired to their work. Sharon sat at her desk in the living room, and Rusty sat on the sofa. Sharon's laptop rested across his legs. Sam was in the dining room reading through one of several articles she needed to finish before tomorrow, when she needed to have decided what stayed in next week's issue and what she needed to cut. She was going back and forth between her current article and some artwork Blake had pulled for her to look through, when Rusty and Sharon's conversation in the other room distracted her. It was an open apartment and the rooms all ran into one another. The living room and the dining room were joined; you could hear a conversation going on in one room clearly when standing in the other. "Okay, Rusty. Time to wrap it up. It's 10:30, lights out around here." "At my last job 10:30 was rush hour." "About that," Sharon started inquisitively, "Do you think it might be a good idea for you to talk to someone?" "I don't talk to shrinks," Rusty snapped. He closed the laptop, set it on the coffee table, and replaced the laptop with a notepad and pencil. "Maybe you should see one. Find out what happened to your marriage and why you suddenly went from marrying men to women," he suggested. _Really, am I even here? _Sam thought. Why was everyone bringing that up? "Nothing happened," Sharon informed him with an honest smile, "We're separated. We've _both_ moved on." Sharon looked at Sam, with a sparkle in her eye, before looking back down at the paperwork on her desk. Rusty also looked back behind him, and Sam felt like she should maybe say something. But what? "You still keep his stuff here," Rusty reminded directing his attention back to his writing. "Well, he's the father of my children; he needs to stop by sometimes. There are some very good things about him, though I can't think of anything at the moment." Sharon grinned at her joke, but no one else was amused. Sam exchanged glances with Sharon once again but didn't interfere. She did nod her head in the direction of the spare bedroom. If nothing else, maybe Sharon could get him to sleep in the guest room tonight. She really wanted the living room back, and Sharon took the hint: "Okay, you don't want to talk to a psychologist. I understand that. Let's discuss how the spare bedroom—" "Will get me out of your way and make it that much easier to forget about me and my problems," Rusty interrupted, "Which no one seems to care about anyway." Sharon moved from behind her desk and leaned against it on the other side. She gave Rusty her most sympathetic look, and crossed her arms in front of her as she explained that she was tracking his mother's credit card and would be coming across her soon.

"Then why am I being made to study for this stupid school?" Rusty asked hopefully. "It's not a stupid school," Sharon answered, "Both of my kids went there, and they got into great colleges. That is something that I would like you to start thinking about as smart as you are." Sam stood from her current position and walked around the dining room table in order to get a better look. She loved it when Sharon got all sweet and motherly. She had always loved the way Sharon interacted with her kids, but she knew that teenagers hated that sort of thing. She wanted to help.

"Hey," Rusty said as he stood up, "I am not your child. And I won't be here long enough to go to this terrific school of yours. And people like me don't get into college, and we both know that. To remind you how bad you are at your job, I am going to be sleeping here until you both get fed up enough to do something that is actually going to help me."

He looked as if he was going to lay back onto the sofa, but instead he swiftly headed for the door of the apartment. "Where are you going?" Sharon asked, as she calmly followed him. "I just need a minute please," Rusty said. He closed the door behind him, and Sharon started to follow. "I'll go," Sam stopped her, "I should talk to him anyway." Sharon gave her a suspect look and Sam smiled at her reassuringly. "He can't just walk out of the house like that," Sharon said.  
"I know. I'll bring him back." Sam reiterated, quickly following Rusty out into the hallway.

Rusty was halfway to the elevator doors at the end of the hall when Sam called to him. He turned around to face her. "_What _is it?" He groaned. Sam shrugged her shoulders; clearly she was at a loss. She wished she was better at saying the right thing. "Where are you going?" She asked. Rusty hung his head and leaned against the wall, shrugging his shoulders. Sam walked over to lean beside him. "I was…homeless when I was your age," Sam blurted, "Everyone's been telling me that I might be able to relate to you. That I should try and talk to you? I guess that is what they wanted me to say." Sam was referring to her sister, who kept insisting that she try to talk to the boy about what he was going through. Sara seemed to think that they had the potential to form some sort of troubled teen bond, but Sam was an adult now and it had been years since she had even thought about the her past. "Who Sharon?" Rusty asked. Sam smiled lightly. "No, not Sharon…she…well she does want me to talk to you but not about my past. She knows how much I hate talking about myself," Sam told him. "Then, why did you follow me out here? Sounds like you want to talk about it," Rusty said, his eyes on his shoes. "I don't really," Sam said honestly. Rusty pushed himself away from the wall's support and faced Sam to speak. "Good. Because I don't want to hear about it, okay. I don't want to hear about how you know what I'm going through, and I don't want to be related to. I just want my mom." Well, the kid was right about one thing. She couldn't relate to actually wanting to find one's mother. She ran away from home when she was young and never looked back. "Okay, you don't want to swap stories. I get it," she surrendered, "I know I don't know exactly what you're going through or how you feel…but come back inside? Come back inside and try to keep in mind that we are not the enemy here. Sharon brought you into our home because she wanted to help you. She still wants to help you. _I_ would love to help you. Maybe that's hard for you to trust because you don't know us, but Sharon rarely fails at anything she sets out to accomplish. When she tells you she is going to find you mother, Rusty, she means it. Come back inside and give us a chance, please?"

The sound of a door being opened down the hall caught both of their attention, and Sharon appeared in the hallway with her arms crossed in front of her chest, a questioning look on her face. Sam smiled and nodded to her. Rusty sighed and walked toward Sharon; he showed no other sign that he had heard a word of their discussion.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Sharon watched intently as Sam unbuttoned each button on her blue button-down extra slowly. Slower than usual? She couldn't tell. When she was finished removing the shirt and the black bra underneath, she unclasped her jeans and slipped out of those. It was torture. Sam was teasing on purpose, but she tried to play it off innocently. Sharon was onto her; she closed the book she was reading and set it down on the nightstand. Sam, now clad in nothing but her solid black underwear, sat on the opposite side of the bed and began to rub moisturizer over the smooth skin of her hands all the way up to her elbows. Her small breasts and perfect nipples on full display. Sharon loved Sam's nipples; they were definitely her favorite. "You know, if you aren't going to be having sex with me, you could at least put a shirt on to bed," Sharon told her almost fully nude counterpart. Sam smiled a crooked smile and kissed Sharon squarely on the mouth. "I left my underwear on," she said as if that somehow made it better. As if she weren't just as sexy in nothing but her black underwear than not. Sharon removed the glasses from her face and took Sam by the hand. She looked deeply into her eyes; her mouth formed into a pitiful excuse for a pout. Sam only laughed at her. "You've always been terrible at begging," she teased. "I do not beg, Samantha Grey," Sharon corrected, her voice low and firm. She released Sam's hand and returned to the book she had previously put away. _No begging. _She reminded herself. She heard Sam sigh heavily from beside her and shift under the covers. After a moment of feeling like she was being watched, the book disappeared from her hands. Sam placed the book back on the nightstand and moved on top of Sharon so that each of her knees were on either side of the captain's hips.

Sharon's heartbeat quickened, as Sam, without saying a word, removed Sharon's glasses from her face and placed them on top of the book. Sharon brushed a stray lock of black hair away from dark brown eyes, then ran her thumb across a small, alluring bottom lip. Sam fiddled with the hem of Sharon's shirt and planted small kisses along the neck of the woman beneath her, making her way up to Sharon's jaw line. In turn, Sharon took a deep breath in as she felt the intense desire for the younger woman build, and she could tell by how tightly Sam clung to her lower body that the younger woman wouldn't hold back again tonight. Her assumption was confirmed when Sam whispered, "I can't take it anymore… I think, I want to be quiet now." Sharon smiled her brightest smile and instantly felt her body heat up. She crashed her lips against Sam's in a moment of extreme weakness. _How could anybody taste this good? _She thought as she cupped Sam's breasts with her hands. Samantha teased along the inside of Sharon's bottom lip with her tongue and Sharon allowed her entrance. After a moment, Sam broke away from the kiss only long enough to pull Sharon's shirt up and off. Without wasting any time Sam slipped her hand into the waistband of Sharon's bottoms and then bypassed her panties. Sharon moaned quietly at the contact. "You're so wet," Sam whispered into her ear. Sharon mimicked the younger woman's actions and slipped her hand underneath the solid black underwear. "Ah," she gasped as Sam moved her finger over her clit, "So are you."

There was hushed laughter as Sharon rolled them both over so that she was now lying atop Sam. She pulled her hand out of her panties and sat up in the bed long enough to pull her pajama bottoms off along with her underwear. "Now you," she told the woman underneath her. Sam hastily removed the offending garment and pulled Sharon by the hand back down on top of her, immediately spreading her legs so that she could press herself against Sharon's thigh. Sharon allowed Sam to rock her hips against her, before she repositioned their bodies so that their centers met. She heard Sam whimper at the new sensation and gave her a knowing smirk, "I know this is going to be difficult for you, but try to remain silent," Sharon teased her partner as she slowly began to rock her hips. "Shut up," Sam gasped quietly as she brought her lips to Sharon's.

* * *

Sam banged her head hard against the headboard at the loud noise that jolted her out of her sleep. "Shit," she grumbled groggily. She clutched at the top of her head with one hand and answered the phone with the other. "Sharon," she spoke into the speaker. She looked over to the clock. "It is five o'clock in the morning." "I'm sorry I woke you, but there's been an accident," Sharon said calmly and clearly from the other end of the receiver. "I know you told me before you left. Is everything okay?" Sam asked, still not completely awake. Sharon had gently woken her about an hour and a half earlier and told her that she had been called to a crime scene. "There was a car accident. We suspect the driver was intoxicated, but your sister is here and she needs someone to come pick her up." Sam was having trouble understanding Sharon. What would Sara be doing at the crime scene? A horrible knot formed in the pit of her stomach. "Where are you exactly? Is she okay?" Sam asked concerned. "She's fine. She was here with Blake, but he left and she is in no state to drive herself. Not that she could because he drove. I offered to call her a cab, but—" "What the hell?" Sam interrupted as she threw the cover off of herself and placed her feet on the cold, hard floor. "We're at Cedars," Sharon told her. "What is she doing at the hospital? Was she involved in this car accident?" "A woman plowed her car into a night club, and your sister was in the line. She wasn't hurt, but she came here with Blake." "Well, is he okay? I thought you said he left her there," Sam said as she pulled on a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt. "He had a few stitches above his eye, nothing serious. Please, come get her; she's passed out in the waiting room," Sharon told her, a concerned tone in her voice. "Of course I'm coming. I'll get Rusty and we'll be there soon," she informed Sharon. "Okay, be careful," Sharon told her before she hung up the phone.

"Sharon," Sam called to the captain who was standing in the hall that led to a larger waiting area. Next to her was a tall, silver haired man in a suit and a uniformed police officer. Rusty followed behind, his back pack fastened to his shoulders and his eyes red with sleep. He almost crashed into Sam when she stopped. "Where is she?" Sam asked when she reached Sharon. The silver haired man looked at her with curious eyes. "She is in the waiting room down this hall way," Sharon told her and then directed her attention to Rusty. "Rusty, why don't you have a seat right over there please?" Sharon asked the teenager politely pointing at the chairs against the wall behind him. Rusty rolled his eyes, "Ooh sure. Anything you ask," he said sarcastically as he plopped down in the blue cushioned seat. "Gentlemen, I will be right back. Lieutenant Flynn, will you keep an eye on Rusty here. Let me know if Reno Police calls back please," Sharon addressed the two men. She guided Sam down the hall toward the waiting area where her sister was sleeping. "Reno P.D.?" Sam asked. "Yes," Sharon said quietly as she took a look behind them at the boy sitting impatiently in the hallway, "They believe they've already found Rusty's mother." Sharon didn't seem to be particularly excited about the news, but she had a calm and positive demeanor. "Reno?" Sam reflected, "Well, that's good right? That's what he wants." She was searching Sharon's ever professional features quizzically. Was she becoming attached? "Yes, maybe. I am waiting for them to call me back to confirm that they found her," Sharon said, "So, maybe you should leave Rusty with me in case she calls? I want him to be able to speak with her."

Sharon had always hidden her emotions well, but she had a hint of hesitant concern in her voice. "Okay... He'll be very happy," Sam smiled at her, "It's going to be fine, Sharon. We'll deal with whatever happens." Sharon nodded her head in understanding and squeezed Sam's arm. "I know. Uhm, I have to interview the suspect," she said. "Okay, I'll just go deal with this," Sam assured her, nodding in the direction of her sister. Sara was slumped over in the blue seat; her head was resting on her arm. Sharon smiled at Sam and gave her arm a final, gentle squeeze before heading back to work.

* * *

"Oh, Sara," Sam complained as she helped her sister into her and Sharon's bed, "I could have just taken you to your house. You'd be more comfortable." "NO!" Sara exclaimed unnecessarily loudly. Sam put her finger over her own lips to communicate to Sara that she was too loud. "No," Sara said, quieter this time. Her speech was a bit slurred and her balance had definitely been off while walking to the car. The woman could barely stand. "Blake is angry with me. We had a fight… We're fighting. People died tonight…I just want to sleep here," Sara slurred her words as she nuzzled her face into the fluffy white pillow. Sam removed her sister's shoes from her feet and placed them on the floor beside the bed. On the ride home, Sara had been somber and quiet which was very unlike herself. It was futile to ask her sister what was wrong while she was this drunk and expect a clear, comprehensive answer. "Okay, how do you feel? Are you going to be sick?" Sam asked. Sara always got sick when she drank even a little. "Ugh," Sara groaned as she held onto her stomach. Sam went into the bathroom across the hall and retrieved the small trash can next to the toilet. When she returned to her bedroom, she placed it next to the bed. "Listen to me," Sam said softly but sternly, "If you are going to throw up, please do it in this trash can not on my bed." When Sara made no move to turn over to face the edge of the bed, Sam rolled her over onto her other side. "You are the best," Sara said hazily, "You're just the best." "I know," Sam said. She walked over to Sharon's side of the bed and settled next to her sister. She would have to shower and go to work soon, but first she wanted to stay with her sister until she fell back to sleep. Her mind was on Rusty.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

It was a good thing that Samantha Grey owned the place and could be late to work anytime she wished. Today was one of those days that she was grateful for the wonderful fortune, the astonishing luck of being her own boss. Then again, just because you _could _be late to work, didn't always mean that you should. She left Sara alone at the apartment to sleep it off, and she was walking into work at noon. Not so bad, but she definitely had not needed to be late on this day. When she walked through the double glass doors of the office, she was greeted with a bright smile by Jenny. "Good morning, Ms. Grey. Or should I say afternoon…since technically we've moved past the hours ending in a.m. and we are now on to the hours ending in p.m. Which makes it no longer mor —" "Good afternoon , Jenny," Sam interrupted. If she hadn't interrupted, the neurotic woman behind the front desk would have babbled like that for hours. Jenny wasn't trying to be rude; she just nervously rambled whenever Sam came into the room. The girl had authority issues, and was, in effect, terrified of Sam. Despite her nervous rambling, the girl was very efficient; the best receptionist Sam ever had. "Any messages for me?" Sam asked, getting straight to business. "Yes, ma'am. Dr. Mendez called and said that he'd have to push back his interview until next week or he would just have to cancel his part in the issue altogether," Jenny informed Sam dutifully. Sam had worked weeks on getting the exclusive with the ever elusive Dr. Mendez, whose research was on the fast track to finding a cure for Alzheimer's Disease. This particular research hit close to home with Sam. Her father had suffered from early on-set Alzheimer's.

"Damn it. We've set this up to be an exclusive top medical breakthroughs issue. He's the star. Call back in a few…See if we can't get at least a phone interview scheduled," Sam instructed her doe eyed employee, who was swiftly scribbling notes. "Yes ma'am. Blake called. He said he couldn't come in for his morning meeting with the new freelance photographer, but that he would be in later. Which should be any minute now, I guess." Sam nonchalantly nodded her head; she had seen that one coming. "Who met with the photographer?" Sam asked. "Oh, I called and rescheduled his meeting for one." "Okay, thank you. I will be in my office. Tell Blake to come see me in there as soon as he arrives…Before his meeting," Sam ordered. "Will do," Jenny replied sweetly before Sam turned and headed in the direction of her office.

"Oh," Jenny called after. Sam spun back around in the direction of her overachieving intern. "Sharon called. You weren't answering your cell, and she said to call her back when you get a chance." Sam reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone: three missed calls from Sharon. She left the device on silent once again; it was a new cell phone, and she hadn't quite taken the time to find out how everything worked. She had set the ringer on silent earlier, and couldn't remember how she'd done so. "Damn, did it sound important?" "I couldn't say," Jenny answered honestly. "Alright. Thank you, Jenny." Sam nodded at the red head encouragingly and turned back in the direction of her office; she dialed Sharon's cell.

"Hi, busy day?" Sharon asked after the third ring. Sam set the dark brown messenger bag that clung to her shoulders down on the floor beside her chair and sat at the desk. "I'm sorry, honey. I left the damn thing on silent again. I just got into work. I had to babysit Sara this morning, who by the way was completely wasted. She's in our bed right now, in case you decide to go by the apartment today," Sam said in reply. "Yea, she couldn't even stand up when I found her at the hospital," Sharon added. The woman sounded completely distracted, which made Sam feel terrible for missing her calls. "I'm guessing you weren't calling to talk about Sara," she said, "Did you get in touch with Rusty's mother?" "I did," Sharon answered, "That is what I called to tell you. I did get in touch with his mother. Rusty was absolutely thrilled to hear from her, and we've worked it out so that she is taking a bus to L.A. as we speak." Sam heard that Sharon was taking the calm level headed approach to the situation. Sam certainly hadn't been the boy's best friend, but she wasn't exactly itching to bring back the mother that had abandoned Rusty so thoughtlessly. She wanted to know Sharon's opinion on the situation, but she was hesitant to ask. Sam liked the kid well enough, but she still didn't know if she wanted to commit to him becoming a permanent fixture in their home. On the other hand, she didn't just want to hand the boy over to someone who wasn't fit to properly parent him. She was starting to feel an obligation to Rusty. He reminded her of herself, much to her disliking. The main concern was that Rusty end up with the most responsible, most qualified person to handle his type of situation.

"Okay, so…what happens when she gets here? Certainly, she won't be allowed to just take him. I mean, the woman dumped him." "No," Sharon answered patiently, "The judge will have to decide if she is fit to parent Rusty. He will look into her past and take into consideration the circumstances—" "Right," Sam cut her off, "The acceptable circumstances under which a person would abandon their kid." "Of course there are child endangerment issues…I just hope that for Rusty's sake, she's up for the job. He'll be so disappointed if he can't be successfully reunited with her," Sharon told Sam. "I guess, we'll just have to hope for the best then," Sam pointed out, deciding to take over Sharon's previously positive attitude. "Of course, we will just have to see," Sharon said, "Anyway, I have arranged for Rusty to have dinner with his mother tonight. Lt. Flynn has volunteered to join them…to supervise." "I'll go, Sharon," Sam volunteered. She wanted to size the woman up and get a good idea of who she was and what her motives were. "Well, I didn't know if you would be working. Besides, I don't think that his mother would appreciate either of us being there. I want it to be as easy for Rusty as possible," Sharon explained thoughtfully. "Of course, as do I," Sam agreed, "But I think that one of us should be there. Shouldn't we? We have to meet the woman and make sure—"  
"We have to let them spend time together, and he doesn't need us there scrutinizing her," Sharon rationalized, "We will meet her, but her qualifications as a parent are for a judge to assess, not us…And in any case that is not what tonight is about."

Sam conceded on this point. Sharon was right; Rusty needed time with his mother because no matter what type of mother she was, she was still his mother. Children will forgive a lot of their parents. This much Sam knew, and she really had no desire to ruin Rusty's evening with the mother he'd been searching for. Besides, who did she think she was? She wasn't a judge, nor was she a mother. She had no business speaking on who was and was not qualified to raise a kid. "You're right…I shouldn't be there tonight," Sam sighed. Sharon chuckled on the other end of the line. "What?" Sam asked incredulously. "Nothing," Sharon said, "You just…nothing…I love you is all."

Through the window that separated her office from the lobby, Sam could see that Blake had made it in a few minutes early for his rescheduled meeting. She was definitely ready to talk to the blond headed, blue eyed jerk who had left her sister alone and drunk at a hospital after having witnessed a major tragedy. Every day she got closer to firing the arrogant prick, but had only held out because of her sister. That was no way to make decisions involving her business, and this would be his last chance. It was time to start treating him just as she would any of her employees. "Oh, Sharon. I have to go. I have a…meeting," Sam told her partner, regretfully.

"Yes, I have to go as well. I will see you later on tonight then. Please, try and refrain from killing Blake when you talk to him." It was like the woman could read her mind at times. "How did…No, you know…," Sam stuttered. She imagined that playfully, sly grin spreading across Sharon's lips on the other end of the line. "I would hate to have to arrest _you _ for murder," Sharon joked dryly. "Ha. Ha…I will see you later. Love you," Sam finished and hung up the phone just as Blake tapped on the door.

* * *

This had been, without a doubt, the longest day of Rusty's life. He looked at the clock on the wall of the murder room. It was six o'clock, only two hours before his mother's bus was scheduled to arrive in L.A., and Lt. Flynn was still not back from whatever task the Captain had assigned. He was getting worried, but he trusted the captain's judgment. After all, she had pulled it off. The captain had actually done what she said she would all along; she had located his mother. Rusty was so excited and anxious; he had so much to say. He had so many plans for the two of them, his mother and himself. Of course, he knew that she had never wanted to leave him in the first place. It was her boyfriend; he was the one who made her do it. That was in the past now; his mother had assured it over the phone. It didn't matter that he couldn't go live with her straight away. All that mattered was that she was coming, and she did want to see him again. She wasn't giving up, and that was the brightest light at the end of the tunnel. The hope that if he could just find his mother again she wouldn't turn him away was what Rusty had been holding on to. Rusty glanced to the clock again, and only two minutes had passed since he had previously allowed himself to look. He could not wait anymore. The suspense was killing him, and he was tempted to go to the bus station himself.

The captain was in electronics last he heard. It was time he went to check on the status of Lt. Flynn. Under no circumstances was he going to miss his mom's bus. Rusty made his way down the halls of the Major Crimes department and peeked his head into the electronics room. Sharon and Buzz were sitting in front of the monitor; they were fully engrossed before he entered. "Lt. Flynn isn't back yet," Rusty blurted in response to the curious eyes staring in his direction. "He will be. You'll make your mother's bus, I promise," Sharon assured him. Buzz helpfully volunteered to dial Lt. Flynn. "You will be there when your mother arrives," he said.

At the bus station, Rusty was sitting on the edge of his seat. He nervously fidgeted with the zipper of the back pack that rested in his lap. It was almost eight o'clock. Where was the bus? "Just so you know," the lieutenant said as he sat down next to him, "I've made arrangements for her to stay at a decent hotel." "Great," Rusty said as he searched the bus station. "If you want, we can just skip dinner and drop her right off," Flynn offered. He must have picked up on Rusty's nervousness. "I just…the hotel won't have a mini bar? She hates mini bars," Rusty told the lieutenant. "No mini bars…got it," Lt. Flynn echoed back to him. "And I need you to be nice…and smile at dinner. She can't feel like anyone's coming down on her or judging her. I need her to see that this was the right decision…coming back," Rusty told Lt. Flynn anxiously. He had been worried for months about finding his mother, and now he had to make sure that he kept her. "Sure, kid. No problem," Flynn agreed.

The bus pulled into the station and Rusty jumped to his feet. It felt as if his heart had dropped into his stomach as he stood and placed his back pack on his shoulders on top of his blue hooded sweatshirt. He followed the lieutenant in front of where the bus came to a halt. Rusty stood on his toes in an attempt to see into the windows of the vehicle. One-by-one the passengers filed off of the bus, and panic formed in the teenager's gut as fewer and fewer people were left to exit. Not one of them was his mother. When the last passenger exited, the disappointment was so great that he felt like he was going to pass out, but the lieutenant told him to hold on. Was there a possibility she had taken the wrong bus by mistake? Had she fallen asleep? As Flynn nodded his head at whatever the bus driver was telling him, he realized the helpful driver was shaking her head no as she stared at the picture of his mother. It was in that moment that reality sank in for the teen. She wasn't coming. His mother had not even boarded the bus. His mother was a liar. Tears threatened to flood his eyes, and Rusty quickly rubbed at them with the sleeve of his jacket. _NO! _He shouted inwardly. It was getting hard for him to breathe; he sucked at the air through his mouth, but it was not reaching his lungs. The lieutenant was still talking to the driver, and now was his chance. He had to run. Cautiously, he backed away from the bus, away from his dashed hopes, and he bolted as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

* * *

The captain exited the murder room completely deflated. The last of the squad was busy with the paperwork that came along with closing up a case, Flynn and Provenza would be staying at the office tonight, and Rusty was missing. She stopped at the elevator and reached into her purse for her cell phone. Sharon took a deep breath and exhaled as she pressed the button indicating down while she simultaneously dialed Sam's number.  
The doors opened, she stepped onto the elevator, pushed another button and leaned against the back wall for support. She was trying very hard to keep her emotions in check as her eyes ever so lightly started to water. Sam wasn't answering after the fifth ring. Irritation welled up within her as she stepped off of the elevator and into the parking garage. _Was it too much to ask that a person answer their phone? _Once she was inside her vehicle, she tried more deep breathing to settle her nerves.

Sam was calling. "Please, please answer your phone when I call you," Sharon immediately said as soon as she picked up. "I'm sorry…I'm sorry. I don't know how to work this new phone, obviously," Sam said apologetically. Sharon exhaled once again and accepted Sam's apology. "Is everything okay?" Sam asked. "Uhm, Rusty…Ran off at the bus stop," Sharon informed Sam keeping her voice as calm and collected as always. "What do you mean he ran off? What happened?" Sam's voice wasn't so calm. Did Sharon detect a hint of concern? Sam had almost sounded like a parent. "He…His mother didn't show, and he ran away from Lt. Flynn. We've got people out searching for him now," Sharon tried to allay her partner's concerns, and if she were honest, her own. "Flynn and Provenza are staying put at the station in case they hear anything—" "Okay, well…I'm going to find him," Sam said as if it were obvious. "Sam," Sharon said, "I'm on my way home now. We should be there in case he turns up…Where are you now, by the way?" "I'm at the house," Sam told her. "Look, I'm just going to drive around the bus station…He can't have gone that far... Right?" Sharon didn't respond, she just rested her head in her hands. She was completely exhausted. "Okay," Sam continued, "I know, he could be anywhere. It's been what? A couple of hours since eight, but it won't hurt for me to go look. You should go home though and wait for him there." Sharon didn't try to convince Sam not to go out and search. Even with all the people she had canvassing the bus stop, it couldn't hurt for Sam to go. Besides, the woman had made up her mind, and there was no changing Sam's mind once it was made. "Okay," Sharon conceded, "Okay…I will be home soon."

* * *

Sam nodded politely at the doorman as she exited the apartment building. Her car was parked just across the street, and she headed in that direction. She knew she should have gone with Rusty herself to meet the bus. Perhaps she could have kept a closer eye on the kid. She knew exactly what happened to runaways on the streets of Los Angeles, and just how easy it was to hitch a ride out of town in that area. There were just so many places the kid could be. A dark figure leaning against the building caught the attention of her peripheral vision. Almost absent mindedly, she turned in the direction of the figure and noticed the blue sweatshirt and the backpack. _Well, that was easy. _She thought as she recognized the person leaning against the building as Rusty. A wave of relief washed over her. "What the hell, dude?" Sam called to him.

As she walked in his direction, she noticed the lit cigarette resting between his fingertips. "Sorry," Rusty apologized, "I…I tried to just go inside, but the door was locked." Sam stopped in front of the kid, and tucked her hands inside the pocket of her navy blue, hooded zip-up. She sighed and took the cigarette from his fingers; the eye roll the teenager gave as she took a drag wasn't lost on her. "You shouldn't smoke," She told him as she leaned against the building next to him. "Don't smoke," She repeated. "I don't…usually. I used to when I was on the street," he shrugged. Sam nodded understandingly as she took a final hit and flicked the cigarette onto the ground. What to say to a kid that had just lost his mother for the second time? As the minutes of silence ticked by, nothing came to her. It was a quiet moment of empathy that passed between the two, and for some reason, Sam could tell that Rusty understood it.

"Why did you run away from home?" Rusty interrupted the moment. "I…" Sam started. It was always difficult to start this story over with someone new, which was why Sam hated telling it. She decided to go with a short and simple, honest answer. "My father was gone, and my mom was not a good mother. She was never meant to be a parent," Sam told Rusty finally. He shook his head as if he understood. "I don't think that my mom was either…meant to be a mom, I mean," he said as he wiped at his eyes. Sam couldn't tell if he was crying, but his voice didn't sound like it. "I'm sorry, Rusty," Sam offered her sympathies. She almost touched the boys shoulder in order to offer him some sort of comfort but changed her mind just before her hand made contact. After another short silence, Sam pushed herself away from the building. She looked into Rusty's sad features and sighed, "Let's go home."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Sharon thumbed through the school forms in her hands and felt two comforting arms snake around her from behind. Sam rested her chin on Sharon's shoulder and pressed a light kiss to her neck through her hair. When Sharon arrived home, Rusty was already settled in his room for the night, but she found the finished school forms out on the kitchen table. Sharon relaxed into Sam's embrace and intertwined their fingers; she placed the papers on the table for now. "He asked me to give those to you," Sam told Sharon. "You found him," Sharon said. She couldn't help the relief laced with her words. "Well, I didn't have to look far. He was standing outside the building. He said that he tried to come in, but the door was locked." Sharon wondered if she should go and say something, but Sam told her to just let him sleep. "He doesn't really want to talk about it," Sam informed the concerned captain.

Sharon turned around to face Sam and gently cupped her face with her hands. To show her appreciation, Sharon placed a kiss to Sam's lips and slipped her tongue inside. The kiss tasted sweet like gratitude and passion and...cigarettes? Sharon pulled away from Sam's lips and looked into confused eyes. "You taste like…Have you been smoking?" Sharon asked in quiet disbelief. "Uhm… No…" Sam fumbled her words. She sounded very much like someone who'd just been busted smoking in the bathroom during second period gym class. Sharon placed her hands on her hips and gave Sam her best reprimanding glare. "Yes," Sam surrendered, "It's a disgusting habit. I smoke sometimes when I'm stressed, okay." "No, you don't," Sharon stated suspiciously folding her arms in front of her.

"Well, you don't know everything…I'm just really good at…I, I'm sneaky about it… is all. It's gross. I know," Sam stammered again; something Sharon knew Sam to do when she was covering something up. It wasn't like Sharon was angry. Smoking _was _a disgusting habit, but she wasn't her mother. Sam was a grown woman. "Look, I do not smoke," Sam said with finality . "Okay," Sharon smiled at her girlfriend. "I don't," Sam repeated firmly. "Sam, it's okay. I mean it's a terrible habit for you to start again, and it'll blacken your lungs," Sharon shrugged passive aggressively. "It certainly tastes awful, but I'm not going to put you in a time out or anything."

Sam raised an eyebrow suggestively and gave Sharon a playful smirk as she stepped closer. "Well, maybe," Sam said, her voice low and arousing, "You should think of _some_ form of punishment." She gave Sharon a lingering kiss before she took her by the hand and pulled her in the direction of the bedroom. "Oh," Sharon suddenly remembered the team currently searching for Rusty. "I need to make a quick phone call, and I'll be right there," she told Sam. "Okay, I have to brush my teeth anyway," Sam joked as she sauntered off to their bedroom.

The lieutenant picked up after the first ring. "Lt. Provenza, thank you for picking up so quickly. You can tell the department to stand down. When I came in the door, Rusty was here…Yes, Rusty is home…Thank you." When it came to the situation with Rusty, Provenza had been almost supportive. She felt like the team was starting to accept and respect her leadership, and it was a nice feeling for the captain to have in the work place, a rare but nice feeling. It was well known that due to her tough personality and her glaring appreciation for every detail of the law, Captain Sharon Raydor was not overtly popular among her colleagues outside of I.A.

The captain hung up the phone and returned her attention to Rusty's completed school forms on the table. Tomorrow she would look them over and give the school a call, but tonight she was utterly exhausted as she switched off the kitchen lights and joined Sam in bed.

* * *

Sam awoke to the most delicious smells wafting from the kitchen. The alarm clock technically woke her, but it was the smell of pancakes that actually drove her to leave the comfort of her bed. Careful not to wake Sharon, Sam eased her way out of bed and slipped on an oversized t-shirt and pulled on some grey leggings that hugged her slender body. Any other morning she would have continued to hit the snooze button for the next hour, but curiosity had gotten the best of her. The two women were very busy people, and they seldom made breakfast in the mornings. She turned the corner and peered into the kitchen at the teenage boy standing over her stove with a spatula in hand. "What is all this?" She asked in amazement. Samantha rubbed her heavy eyelids and headed for the coffee pot.

"I thought I'd make breakfast for us," Rusty responded to her question. Sam dumped the used coffee filter full of coffee grinds in the trash and replaced it with a new one. "That is very sweet of you. This kitchen hasn't seen a pancake since I moved in," she joked. Rusty smiled half-heartedly as Sam finished preparing the coffeepot and hit the start button.

"It's not really a big deal. I used to cook breakfast all the time for my mom," he shrugged, "I saw some bacon in there…I could make that if you want." "Oh, I don't eat bacon, but Sharon would love some," Sam said as she watched the boy expertly flip a steaming pancake onto the fresh stack. They were possibly the fluffiest pancakes Sam had ever seen. "Are you a vegetarion or something?" Rusty scoffed. "Yes," Sam answered frankly and continued to dote on his breakfast.

"Did you make these from scratch?" She noticed the ingredients littering the counter. "Yea, I mean it's not that hard. Pancakes are probably the easiest thing to make," Rusty informed Sam. Sam didn't know the first thing about cooking; the woman struggled not to burn toast. So, she was easily impressed. "I usually just add water to the box mix, and half the time I can't get those to turn out as perfectly as that," she complemented his stack of pancakes. Rusty smiled slightly and went into the fridge for the bacon. At the sizzle of the bacon hitting the pan, Sharon entered the room, her solid black bathrobe draped over her purple camisole and dark grey pajama bottoms.

"What is all of this?" She echoed Sam's previous question and stared, seemingly in shock, at the fully dressed teenager proficiently maneuvering his way around the kitchen so early in the morning. Usually, he wasn't out of bed before nine if he didn't have to be. "What you two never made breakfast?" Rusty huffed. "No," they answered in unison. Sharon swept past Sam and pulled down two coffee mugs. Two cubes of sugar and a drop of creamer were added to her own, and she handed the mug that contained just plain, steaming black liquid over to Sam. "Sharon, do you want bacon?" Rusty asked before he added another slice to the frying pan. "Please, thank you," Sharon answered graciously.

Sam noticed the suspicious glance that Sharon tossed her way and shrugged her shoulders in bewilderment. Sharon took a seat behind the bar and watched as the teenager focused intently on the sizzling pork in front of him. "Rusty, you didn't need to go to all of this trouble," she said in her most soothing voice that Sam loved. She knew what Sharon meant. Did he think he had to prove himself? Was he afraid that since his mother hadn't been successfully retrieved that he had to be on his best behavior or he'd be sent away to another foster family? "Well, you tried to help me find my mother, and she ripped everybody off…It's not any trouble," he assured, "In fact, I could make breakfast every morning if you would like." Sam sat on the barstool next to Sharon and absentmindedly placed her hand on Sharon's knee. "Hey, maybe then Sam would have an easier time getting out of bed," Sharon teased. Sam smiled and rolled her eyes at Sharon's joke; Sharon got serious again when Rusty didn't respond.

"Rusty, I'm sorry about your—" "I don't want to talk about it, okay. She lied to me. I believed her, and it won't happen again. I'm moving on," Rusty said definitely. Sharon seemed taken aback for a moment, then nodded her head and said, "Okay."

Rusty was now setting the pancakes and the plate of bacon on the counter in front of them. He moved to the fridge and poured himself a glass of orange juice. "So, how much money did she steal from everybody? I know they all pitched in—" "Don't worry about that," Sharon cut him off. "Things like this are covered by our…bosses," Sharon fibbed. Rusty accepted the captain's answer. Whether he believed it or not, Sam could not tell.

"Rusty, I just have to ask you a question and I need you to answer me truthfully," Sharon said, her voice one of authority, "Why did you run away from Lt. Flynn?" Sam knew that Sharon had been more worried than she let on. She saw it in her relieved expression the night before when she came home to find that Rusty was there. "I don't like for people to see me cry…So, I left," Rusty answered Sharon as he set two plates down on the counter, one in front of each woman. "Rusty," Sharon continued, "Your mother is missing out here. I hope you know that nothing she has done has a thing to do with you." Rusty nodded his head as if he understood. Sam knew from experience that words like those mostly didn't register with teenagers. They blamed themselves anyway, usually. "Thanks for trying to bring her back," Rusty said. Sincere gratitude? Rusty seemed like a totally different kid this morning.

A loud noise from the next room interrupted the conversation, and Sam realized it was her own ringtone. Why was it so loud? "I see you figured out how to turn it off of silent," Sharon noted. Sam ignored the teasing, and went to retrieve her phone from her bag next to the dining table. It was the office.

"Samantha Grey," She answered professionally. "Good morning, I'm sorry to be calling so early," Jenny said brightly. "It's okay, Jenny. I was up anyway. What is it?" She asked. "Well, I finally got Dr. Mendez to schedule the phone interview you requested. He said that it would be fine, and that it had to be nine o'clock this morning." It was eight-fifteen. "Okay, well…Shelly is the one handling his piece. You should probably call her and—" "He is insisting that you give the interview," Jenny interrupted. "Me?" Sam asked astonished.

"Yes, I wasn't sure what to say. I just told him I'd have to run it by you first," Jenny answered her. Sam really didn't like talking about her father's disease, and she certainly wasn't prepared for this interview. Shelly was her best medical journalist on staff, and she had been researching the piece for weeks: She knew every detail of the clinical trial, every patient outcome, every failure, and every success. Not to mention the fact that Shelly understood the actual science much better than Sam herself did. Not that Sam didn't know a great deal about the actual science of this particular clinical trial; she just didn't like the pressure of talking about it out loud.

Whatever the reason, the thought of doing an interview about an Alzheimer's Clinical trial made her extremely anxious. No, she wouldn't do it. "Why does he want me?" Sam inquired curiously. "He's a fan of your work, he says. It's a compliment, really," Jenny explained cheerfully, "He loves you. I think that he just wants a chance to speak with you. He even told me about his favorite paintings of yours." Sam hadn't shown a new painting in an art gallery in years. She was curious where he'd seen her work. Sam got an idea.

"Tell him that I will not be doing the interview and that I am leaving that up to one of our more experienced medical journalists, but a friend of mine will be having a gallery opening in a few weeks. I would love for him to come and look forward to seeing him there. Let him know how much I admire and greatly appreciate his work as well," Sam instructed, "I hope that he is satisfied with Shelly. She is one of my best and will be able to do his work justice."

Jenny agreed to pass along the message, and Sam thanked her before she hung up the phone. She rejoined Sharon and Rusty at the counter. They were already halfway finished with their plates as Sam scooped up the last two pancakes and applied the thinnest layer of syrup. "Everything okay?" Sharon asked as she kindly helped herself to another bite of the fluffy cake. "Yes," Sam answered, "I'm just having the hardest time nailing down an interview with this Alzheimer's doctor. He's doing such amazing work, and the issue won't be complete without him. He's just so hard to pin down." "The doctor doing the Alzheimer's clinical trial that everyone's been buzzing about?" Sharon inquired. "He's what, some rock star doctor?" Rusty asked, jumping into the conversation. "Oh, he's renowned. He's on the verge of an important medical breakthrough," Sam praised.

"Alzheimer's is the thing old people get?" Rusty asked. "Yea, but sometimes young people get it too," Sam said, "My father was diagnosed when he was thirty-one." Sam didn't know what had possessed her to bring up her father, but she immediately wished that she hadn't. The urge to bring him into conversation just snuck up on her these days; she'd be glad to get this Alzheimer's piece out of the way. Then, she'd be able to return to not thinking about him. "Oh, well is your dad going to get the treatment that this guy is working on?" Rusty asked overly curious. Sharon looked sympathetically to Sam and squeezed her arm, a comforting gesture Sam had come to expect from her better half. "No, my father is dead," Sam said minimally. "Sorry," Rusty apologized. "Oh it's fine. He died a long time ago," Sam explained as she popped more of her food into her mouth. Rusty and Sharon cleared their plates and made quick teamwork of placing them into the dishwasher. Her phone chimed next to her, and she welcomed the interruption of Jenny's text.

_**Jenny: He's in. He looks forward to meeting you at the art show. **_

_**Sam: Great. Please add his name to the invitation list for Blake's show.**_

_**Jenny: Will do.**_

"My dad died a long time ago too, but I never knew him…so it's probably not the same," Rusty concluded when Sam didn't look up from her cell phone. "Rusty," Sharon interjected, "Thank you so much for breakfast. We better start getting ready for the day…yes?" "Okay, I get it. I'm going," Rusty said. Sharon nodded briskly at the boy and he headed off to his room. Sam rose from her chair and carried her plate to the dishwasher, oblivious to the shift in mood between the three.

"You okay?" Sharon asked her. "Yes," Sam responded curtly, "Why wouldn't I be?" The truth was that she had never talked to anyone, including Sharon, about the death of her father, and she didn't plan on starting now. The little Sam had told Sharon about her father's death included just what she told Rusty. He had been diagnosed with early on-set Alzheimer's, and he was dead. Her feelings on the matter were absolutely off-limits, and Sharon, in the year and a half of them being a couple, had picked up on that reality. "I don't know. You seemed distracted for a minute there," Sharon danced around the subject, a brief hint of concern in her voice, as she leaned against the counter beside Sam. "Oh, I was just telling Jenny to add Dr. Mendez to the guest list is all," Sam pitifully explained her distraction, but Sharon accepted it none the less. "Guest list?" Sharon questioned. "Yes, for Blake's show. Turns out he's a fan," Sam said smugly. "Of Blake?"

"No, of me," Sam light-heartedly bragged. After, she mentally noted how absurd the notion of her having a fan was. Sharon chuckled at her partner. "Well, of course…why wouldn't he be," she said as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Sam shrugged, her mind still on Dr. Mendez and his studies and, of course, her father. "Well, I'll just be getting in the shower then…If you're interested," Sharon suggestively changed the subject. Sharon was trying to cheer her up, and it was working. Sam smiled widely at her and kissed her sincerely. "I am interested, but I've got to get to the office. I want to sit in on this interview," she said excitedly. It was the truth; she was very interested in hearing for herself the doctor speak about his research. Because even if she didn't always like to think of her father's disease, she couldn't help but want to know everything about it. She rushed off in the direction of the closet to throw on some clothes. "We can make it quick," Sharon called after her. "There's no time," Sam called back.

* * *

Rusty sat in the chair across from Sharon's desk and tried futilely to keep his foot from continuing the anxious tapping that seemed to be distracting the captain from her paperwork. He noticed Sharon's eyes shift in his direction again, and he stood up to pace the office. Sharon had called the school as soon as she arrived at work and set up an appointment for that afternoon to meet with the principal at St. Joseph's. Rusty was almost nervous, which was silly because he didn't get nervous. Sharon was doing a fantastic job at ignoring the pacing; she only looked up from her work every so often. He stopped once again in front of her desk and fiddled with her name plaque. Finally, Sharon raised her head to face Rusty. "Would you like to talk about something?" She requested and helpfully motioned her head in the direction of the chair Rusty had previously occupied. "No," Rusty lied lamely and sat down.

Sharon nodded once to indicate that she understood, and went back to her work. As soon as her pen hit the paper Rusty interrupted her again. "Just," he said, "Do we have to do this school thing today…I mean, can it not wait until tomorrow. I'll be better prepared tomorrow." Sharon sighed and placed her pen down in front of her. "Rusty, you have been with me for almost a month now, and you still have not started school," Sharon explained, "We really need to go today. There's no sense in stalling." "Right because I have nowhere else to go," Rusty huffed. This was all his mother's fault he thought as he tried quell the anger that rose up in him when he thought of her. He absolutely hated being the new guy at school. "Besides I'm not even Catholic," Rusty continued. "You'll make it," Sharon promised, "Just walk around with a guilty expression on your face. You'll fit right in." Rusty laughed slightly at Sharon's joke. Sometimes he was glad that she had brought him home with her. Living with her and Sam had been far more preferable to the other families he had been stuck with. They didn't have kids that he felt he didn't measure up to or couldn't get along with. They didn't put on a front and pretend that his past didn't exist and he was just like everyone else. The two women had always been genuine with him, and he liked that.

He thought of Sam at breakfast. He felt bad for the little he had pressed about her father, but he hadn't known it was a sensitive subject. "Hey, Sharon," Rusty decided to ask. The captain looked up from her work once again. "Yes?" She responded. "Did I…I mean I didn't mean to offend Sam this morning. She's not like…upset with me is she?" Rusty asked. Sharon looked baffled at his question for a second before her face took on a more considerate look. "No, she wasn't upset with you," She answered attentively. "Good, I mean…cause if she didn't want to talk about her dad, I figured she probably wouldn't have brought him up. But then she seemed upset kind of…Maybe because she brought him up that means she does want to talk about him? " Rusty rambled. "Maybe," Sharon responded thoughtfully to Rusty's assessment. Rusty was curious now. Why did nobody want to talk about it? One of those subject matters that people often avoided, Rusty supposed. "So, does she bring him up a lot?" Sharon looked as if she didn't want to answer, but she did anyway. "No, not a lot…Sometimes she does. She doesn't say much, though," she answered carefully. "I guess that's why she's so interested in this doctor guy then huh? Because it reminds her of her dad?"

"Probably," Sharon agreed. Rusty thoughtfully leaned back in his chair. This line of questioning was going nowhere, and he decided to drop the subject. It wasn't completely taking his mind off of the new school anyway.

* * *

_Domain's _office was buzzing when Sam arrived. Everybody was in a frenzy because they were cutting close to the bone with this week's deadline. Everyone was feeling the strain. Their annual _Top 10 Medical Breakthroughs _issue was always the most difficult to put together due to the heavy amount of time and research that went into each article. Sam had also set the issue up to be solely focused on the science part, everything featured in this particular issue had something to do with the science related to medicine, health and the human body. It was important information she felt should be put out there, and she didn't feel the mainstream media properly covered these particular issues dealing with medicine and the FDA and pharmaceutical companies. There were more medical discoveries out there that could be helping a lot of people that never saw the light of day. Sam felt it was her duty to help inform people of things that were often hidden from them. She had a few special edition issues, including one dealing with the environment, that she put out annually. _Domain _had become a wide ranging magazine in terms of content and was only growing.

The blinds that usually hid the goings on of the conference room were open, and Sam could see that Shelly had already begun her phone interview with Dr. Mendez. She politely waved to Jenny and headed in that direction. She just wanted to peek her head in for a moment. Before she reached the door, a scuffle over by Blake's office caught her attention.

"Oh, come on man! I've worked days on this, and you're telling me I have to go out and get more shots?!" She recognized the man shouting at Blake as their newest freelance photographer Jeffrey. "What? You can't do it?!" Blake shouted back, "Because…if that's a problem…I can get soomeboday else maan," Blake slurred his words. He was noticeably intoxicated. He was leaning on the doorframe of his office, and he began to throw some prints in Jeffrey's face as he shouted, "This is garbage!" Sam sighed in irritation at the scene the two men were creating, as everyone else in the bullpen looked on. She stomped in their direction, "Hey, what is the problem?" She asked astonished. "This drunk asshole is trashing my work," Jeffrey tattled, "I am about sick of this unprofessional, disrespectful bullshit." "Shut the hell up. I am not," Blake stopped and looked at Sam directly in the eyes, "I am not drunk."

"Yes, you are," Sam deadpanned. She could smell the alcohol on him. She returned her attention to Jeffrey. "Please, go and put your prints on my desk, Jeffrey. I will look over them. I'm sure they're great. I am very sorry," she apologized, trying to smooth over the situation. "If I didn't desperately need the money, I'd quit you know," Jeffrey said certainly. "I know," Sam replied and bent over to help Jeffrey gather his prints from the floor. When they finished, he headed in the direction of Sam's office.

Blake rolled his eyes and retreated back into his office; Sam followed him in. Angrily, she shut the door behind them. "So, I give you a second chance just barely a day ago, and you show up to work drunk today, insult one of the best freelancers we have right now, make a giant scene in the middle of my office and I'm supposed to what to just accept it. Why? Because you are dating my sister?" Sam questioned angrily. Blake sat at his desk; his head rested on his arm. "Hey!" She shouted in attempt to get his attention. He looked up at her wobbly and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't care if you fire me," he said nonchalantly, "And neither does Sara anymore. So just do it already." Sam hated that Blake was making a scene, but she hated even more when people told her what to do. "You want me to fire you," she affirmed wryly.

"I've got the gallery now. I don't need this place," he responded. "You only have the gallery because Sara bought it for you. It's her gallery," Sam corrected. Her sister had spent most of her savings on Blake's dream of owning his own gallery. Blake was a painter at heart and often acknowledged that if he could he would paint all day and all night. He would never stop. Sam often thought that he was using Sara's financially stability for his own gain. "Whatever, you don't know anything about it," Blake scoffed.

Sam decided she'd take this time to inquire about what was going on between him and her sister. They'd been sniping at each other ever since the other night and Sam wanted to know why but could never get a straight answer from either of them. "I would if you'd just tell me. What is going on with you two? Sara's at home probably smoking and drinking herself to death over some mysterious fight she had with you, and you're…drunk at work. Which actually doesn't surprise me," Sam said.

Suddenly furious, Blake seemed completely uninterested in talking to her. His face turned red, and he looked as if he wanted to punch something as he rose from his seat and moved so his face was uncomfortably close to Sam's. She didn't budge. She didn't want him to think that she was afraid of him because she wasn't. Sam couldn't remember if she'd ever seen the man angry, except for the day before in her office when she'd scolded him for being late and for leaving her sister so abruptly at the hospital, but he hadn't looked like this. "Look, you want to fire me, fine. Do it. But if you want to know what's going on with Sara? Talk to Sara," he retorted, "Somebody has to." He didn't give her a chance to respond before he stormed out of the office. Sam didn't follow him. He needed to calm down and sober up. She would fire him, though. That much she had decided as she dialed her sister's number. His closing statement had left her worried about her younger sister. She had never liked any of Sara's boyfriends.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thank you to those of you who have posted reviews. And thank you so much Themisia for all of your feedback. I appreciate that you take the time to review each chapter so thoroughly. It's good for me to actually read what people are thinking about the story. I've had these chapters written for a while, but I've been hesitant to post this one because I just wasn't sure about it. After much editing and taking scenes out and putting them back, I'm still not sure as sure in posting it as I have been previous chapters... Also, the story has a few dark moments the next few chapters. So be prepared...I guess is what I'm trying to say. Anyway... **

**Chapter 7**

"Lt. Provenza, please give Mr. Bloom a call. I will be in my office. Please, let me know when he arrives," Sharon ordered the Lieutenant as he followed her out of the electronics room. Sharon had just finished letting the FBI in on her plan to get Bloom out of his house so that her team could discreetly serve a search warrant and retrieve his gun, which they believed would be a perfect match to the one used to murder his cousin. Discreetness was particularly necessary so as not to compromise the FBI's investigation into the family.

Provenza continued to follow her to her office, where Father Langley and Rusty were both waiting for her. Apparently, Rusty had caused some trouble on his first day of school and gotten into a fight. "Captain," Provenza tried to reason, "I understand having Ilea Bloom come here to comfort his cousin's wife works fine getting him out of his house, but what is the point in staging this big confrontation in our murder room?" The captain stopped at her office door and turned to face the perplexed Lieutenant. He still doubted her instincts, and it was really starting to irk her. How long would this attitude of his go on? Just when she started to think they were making progress…

"The FBI assumes our homicide is drug related, and I'm beginning to think it's a little more personal…than that." Sharon's pause was attributed to the familiar dark headed, brown eyed woman who was engaged in an animated conversation with Detective Sanchez further into the murder room; an amused Amy Sykes looked on. Sanchez took a step closer to Sam, and the Captain's eyes widened beneath her dark rimmed glasses. It was usually slightly amusing to Sharon when men flirted with Sam, but on this busy day it was irritating. "Excuse me, Lieutenant," Sharon brushed off the older man's concerns and headed over in Sam's direction to see what she needed. Provenza wouldn't let it go. "Captain," he continued as he placed himself in Sharon's path, effectively halting her. "These are very volatile people. If Roma or Bloom or even this Thorn character were to start a fight—"

"Then one of them could say something that they will live to regret, and they are more likely to say it to each other than they are to one of us," the captain interrupted the lieutenant strictly. The raised octave of her voice caught the attention of the rest of the squad room. Provenza shook his head condescendingly. He clearly thought the captain was naively putting the safety of her team at risk, but Sharon didn't think so. She happened to think that this exercise might actually help them put the pieces together in this particular case.

"You don't under—" "Lieutenant!" She stopped him again, "I have told you what I want done. Do I really need to phrase this as an order?" Provenza stared back at her wide-eyed and speechless, but he didn't protest any further as he settled himself at his desk and picked up the phone.

Everyone briefly stared at the Lieutenant, and Sam took advantage of Julio's brief distraction and approached Sharon. "Friendly team you have here," Sam joked. "Hmm…it seems that way," Sharon responded as she subtly eyed Julio. Sam chuckled, apparently amused. "I went all the way down to F.I.D. to find you in your old office, only to be reminded you don't work there anymore. It's way nicer up here," Sam said, a little too impressed. She wanted something. She had a feeling that Sam was here to talk about her sister, who hadn't been returning Sam's calls and hadn't been home in days. Sam wanted her to track Sara down, but Sharon was hesitant to get the LAPD involved because Sara had a history of disappearing. "Look, I'm sorry to bother you at work, I know you're busy but—" "Do you want to talk to Father Langley from St. Joseph's with me? It appears Rusty is already in some trouble at school." Sharon could almost see the gears in Sam's brain switch from concern over her sister to Rusty. "What kind of trouble?" She asked confused, "It's only his first day." "I don't know. That's what I'm going to find out right now," Sharon answered and guided Sam into her office.

Rusty sat next to the father in the chairs facing her desk. "I'm so sorry to keep you waiting so long, Father. It has been an extraordinarily busy day here," she said as she sat at her desk and shot Rusty an unappreciative glare. "What did they call you too?" Rusty directed his question to Sam who now stood next to Sharon at her desk. "No, I came for other reasons, but what a pleasant surprise," Sam answered sarcastically. "I don't believe we've met," she introduced herself to the priest, "I'm Samantha Grey. I've been helping with Rusty here." Sharon watched as Sam graciously took the priest's hand in her own in a polite handshake. Sharon was hesitant to introduce Sam as her partner because she wasn't exactly sure how tolerant St. Joseph's was when it came to homosexuality. She guessed by Sam's own vague introduction that she felt the same. They didn't need to give the father any more reasons to expel Rusty today. The father didn't seem to be concerned with it when he moved on with the conversation. Maybe he didn't care; it _was _California. "Right…well to continue with what I was explaining to Captain Raydor earlier," the father addressed the two women, "Honesty is at the core of the St. Joseph's honor code, and Rusty introduced himself to his new classmates with lies."

"Such as?" Sharon inquired. She was curious as to what kind of so called "lies" would have been serious enough to start a physical altercation between Rusty and another one of his classmates. Rusty was the one to answer, "They asked me what I did over summer vacation, and I told them that I was involved in helping catch a serial killer. And that I would be a material witness in his murder trial." Sharon nodded her head comprehensively. So far, Rusty had not done anything wrong. She was still giving him the benefit of a doubt. Sam scoffed beside her, but Sharon ignored her. "I thought we had decided not to discuss those things with the other students," Sharon reminded rusty. The teenager just rolled his eyes at her. "So, he was telling the truth?" Father Langley asked, surprised. The look Rusty gave him could only be described as 'I told you so'.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Sharon answered him and directed her attention back to Rusty, "This fight did you start it?" She already knew what the father would say on the matter; she wanted to hear Rusty's side. "No," he said. Sharon looked back to the priest, but Rusty caught her attention once again. "But I finished it. Just like I will the next one and the one after that," Rusty addressed Langley. "Whoa, you got into a fight…your first day?" Sam caught up. Sharon remembered that she hadn't actually told Sam about the altercation. "Yes, he did. Our school has zero tolerance for fighting," the father relayed. Clearly glad to have another thing to add to the list of reasons to kick Rusty out. "That's fine because I have a zero tolerance for getting hit in the face," Rusty argued back. "Rusty," Sam sighed, "Please…"

"Captain, when you approached us about taking on Rusty as a student, we raised concerns that you asked us to overlook. We tried," the father resigned in mock regret, "And it just doesn't seem to be a good fit." "You _tried," _Sam said skeptically, "It's been _one _day. What has he done that warrants throwing him out? I mean, certainly the kid has a right to defend himself." "That's not the point here. The point is that Rusty created the environment of hostility which led to violence," the father explained. _Oh, please. _Sharon thought to herself. She understood that Rusty was a troubled kid and admittedly very difficult to tolerate at times, but this was ridiculous.

"Let's review the events as I understand them. Rusty was asked what he did over the summer; he told the truth. He was assaulted and defended himself. Now, you're trying to throw him out," Sharon assessed. "What about the boy who attacked him," Sam interjected, "Will he be expelled as well?" "It was three boys, and they will be punished," the father answered, "Once they get out of the infirmary." Sharon's previous irritation rose to infuriation at Rusty when he smirked at having sent the others to the infirmary. He clearly took zero percent responsibility for this. She contained her anger in front of the priest.

"And expelled?" Sharon asked. The father looked at her incredulously. "Consider my position." "I am. I am also considering the message you send by turning away an abandoned boy," Sharon appealed to the priest's religious side. It was always hard to argue with one's own professed principles. "I am concerned with the safety of my other students," he defended. "Well," Sam helped Sharon, "What about their…souls?" Sharon looked at Sam dubiously, and then decided to go with it: "Are you at all concerned that they hear one thing at mass and another thing at school?" Rusty beamed proudly at the two women who came to his defense. They didn't return the grin. The father shifted his eyes from one unwavering woman to the other. "I see you are determined," he conceded. Sharon nodded her head and rose to her feet along with the priest. "Let me consult with the faculty," he resigned. Sharon stopped him as he was preparing to exit the room. "Father, let me be clear here. If Rusty is not readmitted tomorrow, I will be taking other actions… Do you understand?" "Yes, captain. I get it," he huffed as he exited the office.

* * *

"You guys," Rusty rejoiced the victory, "That was great!" Sam shook her head and cautioned the celebratory teen. "Dude…no." She was warning him of her partner's foul mood and obvious anger, which the boy seemed to be oblivious to. If he thought he was off the hook, all he had to do was read Sharon's body language to know that wasn't the case. He wouldn't have to though, Sharon was about to let him have it. Rusty looked at the women clearly confused. "How dare you hurt those other boys so badly," Sharon scolded. Her voice was raised slightly from it's usual soothing alto. Had Rusty's attitude finally gotten to the captain? "What?" Rusty asked surprised. "You put them in the infirmary because you hit them harder than you had to and you know it. I want you to stay here. I want you to think about why you are so mad and why you are throwing away an opportunity to change your life for the better," Sharon continued to lecture. "I could actually just take him with me, Sharon," Sam suggested. She quickly retracted her offer and threw her hands up in surrender when Sharon directed that intense glare at her. "Well, fine. Do you want me to stand in the corner too?" Rusty asked sarcastically.

"By all means!," Sharon retorted. A knock came to the door, and a sandy headed man in a blue button down entered the office. His eyes lingered on Sam and for a brief moment. A look of recognition spread across his features, but it passed as he addressed Sharon. "Excuse me, Captain. So sorry to interrupt. Roma and Thorn are set up the way you wanted. The phone call you asked us to make to Mr. Bloom worked. Lt. Flynn is bringing him up right now. Should I tell everyone that you are ready to begin?" "Yes, thank you Buzz," Sharon answered promptly as Buzz hurried out of the office.

"Listen, I know this isn't the best time to bring this up, but my sister—" Sam began, but Sharon interrupted her softly. Sharon knew exactly what Sam was going to say. She wanted Sharon to enlist the help of the LAPD in her search for her sister. Sam understood Sharon's hesitation, but this time felt different. Sara had been MIA for four days now, and Sam had a sinking feeling that something was terribly wrong due to sisterly intuition and terrible nightmares. "I know. You're worried about her. I have to go deal with this right now. We will talk about it later, I promise." Sharon was blowing her off again, and the dismissive attitude of the captain concerning her sister's current disappearance was really starting to piss her off.

"Well, when is later? I just came from Blake's and he hasn't seen her. She isn't responding to any of my messages. I tried missing persons. They filed a report, but they aren't actually looking for her because of her history. She usually answers at least one message or leaves me a note, a voicemail…something. Sharon, come on. Help me out here, please," Sam pleaded. "Samantha, I'm just as concerned for your sister as you are. But she has a history of disappearing like this. She'll turn up… She always does. We will discuss it later. I have to go to work." Sam cringed away in irritation when Sharon touched her shoulder in an attempt to assuage her. Sharon pulled her hand away, but Sam caught it just before she reached the door.

"Sometimes later isn't good enough, and you of all people should understand that," Sam argued, "Please, Sharon. I don't want to spend another year without my sister, worrying about her every day. You don't know what it was like." Sharon gazed at her sympathetically, but didn't respond as something in the other room caught her attention. Well, that was fine because Sam didn't want her to respond if it wasn't about helping with Sara. "Sharon!" Sharon gave in as she hurriedly headed toward the door. "I will talk to missing persons. I will get them to look into your sister's case…I will," she said almost flippantly as she rushed out of the office without giving Sam a chance to respond.

* * *

Rusty flipped through the copy of _Domain _that Lt. Tao let him borrow. _So this is what Sam does all day? _Rusty thought as he flipped past an article titled _Painkiller Crackdown. _The issue was a little dull for his taste; he remembered the last issue having a killer art section. "Rusty, what are you doing in here? Captain Raydor is looking for you," Buzz said as he entered the room; Sanchez and Tao were close behind him. Rusty had been hiding from Sharon in electronics for the better part of the hour now. It was around five o'clock. Maybe he should have gone with Sam earlier after all. Rusty flipped back to the page with the editor's remarks; Sam's photograph was next to the text. "So, did you read anything interesting?" Tao asked him. "Not really. I like the other issues. This health issue is kind of… depressing. The Alzheimer's guy was interesting." "Oh, Dr. Mendez. Yes, his work is really fascinating. See, what he does is injects a chemical compound into the cranium of —"

"Hey," Buzz interrupted Tao and pointed to Sam's picture, "I knew she looked familiar…I wonder what the editor of _Domain _was doing here."  
"You're talking about that hottie from earlier?" Sanchez asked. "She was into me," he said smugly.  
"Yea, right," Rusty snickered. "She was," Sanchez defended, "I would have gotten her number had the captain not interrupted me." The other men laughed at the exchange. Rusty was confused, if not a little amused. They didn't know who Sam was.

"Rusty," Provenza said as he stepped into the room, "You're supposed to be in the break room. What's so funny in here?" "Nothing, sir. Rusty doesn't believe I impressed the woman from earlier," Sanchez responded. "What? This guy," Provenza vigorously gestured toward Sanchez, "He's a regular Casanova."  
Rusty smirked knowingly. "Trust me. You don't stand a chance, dude… You guys really don't know who she is?" Rusty asked curiously. Just as he asked the question, Sharon walked in. She still looked less than pleased with him. "Don't know who, who is?" She asked firmly. Oh, she was still upset with him.

"No one," Rusty quickly answered before anyone else could. He didn't want the captain to think that he was talking about her personal life behind her back. The captain didn't inquire any further. Instead, she ordered him to follow her to her office.

"I will be gone for hours on a stakeout with the FBI," she stated as she entered the office. Once Rusty was inside, she closed the door and walked around to her chair. "Sam has agreed to pick you up from here," Sharon continued almost coldly, "While I'm gone, I encourage you to think about the word civility. I think it might be proper for you to treat me with the same respect as I am showing you."

"Wonderful," Rusty huffed. Was she really that angry about the fight? It wasn't his fault those guys were being assholes. He saw Sam enter the murder room and stop at Sanchez's desk. Maybe he could lighten the mood. "He's into her," Rusty changed the subject, nodding in Sanchez's direction. Sharon looked in Sam's direction just as Sanchez pointed in Sharon's, and Rusty briefly wondered what Sam had said to put that look of bewilderment on the detective's face. Sharon ignored Rusty's statement and waved Sam into the office. Sam gave Sanchez a polite smile before she complied.

"He definitely doesn't know who I am," she stated comically after she shut the door. "Tell me about it," Rusty rolled his eyes. Judging from Sharon's static demeanor, Rusty could safely conclude that his attempts at lightening the mood had failed. Sam shot Rusty a puzzled glare. _Her too? _He wondered to himself. Sam hadn't seemed angry with him before. He decided not to talk anymore.

"So, anything on my sister?" Sharon's attitude seemed to soften in Sam's presence, while Sam seemed tense. Maybe it wasn't him that Sam was angry with. "I did talk to missing persons. They've agreed to look deeper into your sister's case, but…" Sharon trailed off. "But…" Sam urged her to continue. "There isn't much for them to go on, Sam. They've sent people over to Blake's to take his statement. Now, before you start on me again," Sharon responded to Sam's impatient nature, " _I _took it upon myself to look into the recent transactions on her account. The last transaction was three days ago when she made a cash withdrawal of five hundred dollars."

"Okay," Sam said contemplatively, "I don't know whether to be more or less worried by that." "Maybe she went to Phoenix to visit your mother," Sharon suggested. "Well, if that's the case…then I am definitely more worried," Sam sighed, "And if she's only using cash that means she's probably doing…" Rusty caught Sharon's eyes as they shifted cautiously to him, and that must have been why Sam cut the sentence short. He knew that meant there was something they didn't want to talk about in front of him. He wasn't stupid; he had spent almost seven months selling himself on the streets. He knew people frequently emptied their accounts and paid strictly in cash for things like drugs or sex. The point being cash was sometimes sketchy.

"Alright… Thank you for looking into it for me," Sam ended the topic. Sharon looked into the murder room through the blinds in the office. The guys seemed to be waiting for her. "Of course," she told Sam generously. Sam turned to him. "Come on, Rusty," she told him, "Let's go."

* * *

"So are you like mad at me too?" Rusty asked Sam once they entered the house. The ride home had been silent. "No, I'm not angry with you Rusty," she answered him honestly, "But you shouldn't fight at school. And Sharon is right. You didn't need to hurt the other kids so badly, but… you know that." She caught Rusty's eye roll as she set her keys and bag down. "Your eyes are going to get stuck up there one day…" She regretted it as soon as she said it. "Ugh, I sound like my mother," she grimaced.

Sam followed Rusty to the kitchen; he got a water bottle and sat at the counter. "So," she continued, "Why?"

"Why what?" He asked as he innocently sipped his water. Sam smirked at the teenager. She wanted to help him out. After all the kid was in for an intense silent treatment from Sharon, and she knew from experience how tough those could be. "You know. Why did you intentionally try to make trouble for yourself? You knew the trial would be a…hard topic."

"I didn't intentionally…Everyone there just has it so freaking easy. I couldn't stand to listen to one more story about their happy families and their perfect lives," he explained. "I see," Sam nodded understandingly. She pulled a bottle of white wine out of the fridge and poured herself a glass. She could feel Rusty's calculated stare as she did so. "You know, just because the other kids have happy summer vacation stories doesn't mean that they have perfect lives. No one has a perfect life," Sam told him.

"Right, so you think some of them turned tricks on the streets," Rusty argued doubtfully. "Well, no. But nobody is perfect, everyone has a past, everybody has secrets. Give them a chance, and I bet some of them have some sad stories that rival even yours," Sam joked. Rusty's glare told her that she wasn't being funny. "Look, all I'm saying is give the school a chance. They may not have it as tough as you have, but that isn't their fault," Sam clarified. "Yea, I guess… I don't like to fight with people, you know. It's just what I'm used to," Rusty further explained himself. "Mmhmm," Sam teased in her best mock therapist's voice. "Would you like to talk more about that?" "No," Rusty mimicked Sam's elusive answer from one of their previous conversations. "I guess, now I just have to apologize to Sharon," he sighed.

"Yes, you do. Don't worry, she can be very forgiving," Sam said, "If you mean it." "Yea…" Rusty acknowledged as he headed in the direction of his room. "Oh hey," he said before he started down the hall. "Yes?" "I hope you find your sister. I don't really know anything about it, but I know what it's like to want to find someone," he said. "Thank you, Rusty." He smiled at her and continued down the hall.

Sam finished her glass of wine and headed to her bedroom. It had been a long day at work and she just wanted to get out of her stiff clothes and curl up on the couch. That was a lie. What she really wanted was a huge tub filled to the brim with steaming hot water. Water so hot it was slightly painful to first settle into. The tub in this apartment wasn't as big as the one she had in her old place, though. It was always a disappointment. She sighed and removed her gray slacks and tossed them to the side. She found a pair of Sharon's loose fitting navy and black plaid sleeping pants and an old t-shirt of hers with some obscure band from the 1990's displayed on the front. Then, she retrieved her bottle of wine along with her glass from the kitchen and proceeded to the sofa, where she fretted with her hair until she had twisted it into a loose braid that rested over her shoulder.

Just as she had settled on CNN, her phone rang from beside her. Caller I.D. told her it was Blake. _Great. _ She thought to herself. She hadn't gotten around to firing him since his outburst in the office because she wanted to keep him close while her sister was gone. "Hello," she answered grimly.

"Hey, it's me. I just wanted to let you know that Sara called me," Blake informed, "I thought you'd like to know because judging from the police officers that just paid me a visit, I gather you've been worried."  
Sam skeptically perked up. Why would Sara not call her? "Well, okay…where is she? What did she say?" "Not much. She sounded drunk. She just kept apologizing," he told her. "For?" Sam asked. "She didn't say, but…" "But what, Blake," Sam accidentally spit out a little too harshly. The silence on the other end told her he noticed. "What was she apologizing for? Damn it, Blake." "What? I don't know, okay. It was just drunk dialing probably. I only called you to let you know that she's alive and she's on a binge," he angrily replied, "Believe it or not, Samantha, I care about her too." Sam sighed heavily. Why did her sister insist on being so dramatic? Perhaps both her and her sister had their own separate ways of dealing with things. Sam had her repressed memories and her denial, and Sara had her alcohol. She couldn't decide which was worse. "Well, did she say where she was?" Sam asked softer. "No, she didn't. But she usually comes back, right?" he actually sounded concerned. "Usually, yes," Sam answered unenthusiastically.

Last time Sara disappeared like this, Sam didn't speak to her for a little over a year. It would have been longer had she not overdosed on painkillers and ended up in the hospital. Even then, it was the hospital that had contacted Sam on Sara's behalf. "Okay," Blake said on the other end, "I've got to go. I'll uh, see you tomorrow."

Sam hung up the phone and downed the rest of her wine; she immediately regretted it. She wished that Sharon was there with her instead of on duty. She could have really used her company, someone to vent to about her sister and Blake. An overwhelming desire to tell the woman everything about her past crept up on her from somewhere deep within her chest. Sharon knew the basics about what she went through, but honestly, she didn't even know half of it.

She wanted to tell Sharon about her father. She wanted to tell her all about his death. How it changed her. How it changed her family. This feeling had come over her a lot in the past couple of weeks. Maybe the doctor and his Alzheimer's trial had triggered it or the stress her sister and Blake had brought on top of everything with Rusty. She'd like to think that before Rusty she hadn't thought much about her father, but it was a lie. Rusty had only made her realize it. It was all that talk about lost mothers or the horrible nightmares she'd started having again. Whatever the reason, if Sharon were here right now, she'd tell her everything. She needed to tell someone or she felt she would implode. But she wasn't there, and Sam knew she'd feel much differently when Sharon actually got home. The strong desire to open up would be suffocated by fear. The fear of actually saying out loud to someone she truely loved what had happened. She didn't know why, but the concept frightened her.

Samantha quickly pushed all these thoughts to the side and poured herself another glass of wine. Maybe Sara had the right idea, she thought as she slowly nursed her drink. At once, her eyelids felt like they weighed seventy pounds. She could not hold them open. As hard as she tried to fight it, her body succumbed to a deep sleep.

* * *

The apartment was completely dark, save for the soft glimmer of the television, when Sharon arrived home at half past midnight. The evening had gone as planned, and they had captured their killer. It was a shame she'd had to arrest a fourteen year old boy for the murder of his own father. All she wanted to do now was curl up in bed with Sam, who, Sharon realized as she stepped further into the apartment, was fast asleep on the sofa next to an empty bottle of wine and a half empty bottle of Rum. She had not realized that Sam was upset enough to get plastered. Hopefully, she had waited until Rusty was in bed to start. Surely she had.

Sharon gently took the remote from Sam's loose grip and set it onto the coffee table before she knelt down beside the sofa next to Sam's sleepy head. A normally light sleeper, Sam should have woken instantly; the fact that she didn't let Sharon know just how intoxicated her girlfriend was. "Samantha," Sharon whispered smoothly. Sam didn't stir as Sharon stroked her cheek gently with her hand and whispered her name again, this time closer to her ear. She really just wanted to try to move her to the bed. "Honey, wake up. Let's go to bed," Sharon said somewhat louder as she gently nudged Sam's shoulders. Sam finally showed some signs of life and groaned disapprovingly as she flipped on her side. "No, don't get comfortable," Sharon told her softly, "Come with me."

"You," Sam said as her eyes flickered open, "I was dreaming about you. I was waiting on you, and then you were in my dream." Sharon smiled at how clearly Sam spoke. She could handle her alcohol and had never, in the time Sharon had known her, been a sloppy drunk. "Well, I'm here now," she said. Again, she tried to urge Sam to sit up in vain. "You were nicer in my dream," Sam stated. She was referring to earlier in the day when Sharon had brushed off her concerns about Sara. Sharon felt a little badly for that now. "I know. I am sorry about that," Sharon apologized. Sam looked into her eyes apprehensively and sat upright on the couch. "Sit with me," she instructed Sharon lazily. Sharon did as she was told and sat next to Sam, who immediately shared her blanket. It could have just been the alcohol, but Sam looked as if she were deep in thought. Sharon couldn't be sure, but Sam looked like she had something she wanted to divulge. "What is it?" She asked her. "Huh? Nothing. I just…missed you tonight…is all," Sam said sleepily and rested her head on Sharon's shoulder. "Sara called Blake. He said she was drunk…"

"Oh," Sharon understood now. This was why the Rum was out. "So, how much of that did you drink?" Sharon asked as she pointed to the bottle of Rum. "Not much," Sam fibbed. Sharon could tell it was lie by the tone in her voice and the way the woman tensed up beside her. "Right," Sharon said unbelieving. "Well, at least you know she's alright. Did she say where she was?" "She's not alright," Sam said frustrated, "And no." Sharon rubbed Sam's back soothingly and Sam relaxed again. "She's fine," Sharon corrected her, "She just wanted to be alone, right? That's what she does." "She's not fine, Sharon," Sam snapped as she sat up to face her, "She's running away from her problems. Instead of just talking to me about what was bothering her—" "Like you do?" Sharon asked only half joking about Sam's own habits of suppressing her own troubles. She didn't know where the remark had come from, but the hurt on Sam's features almost made her want to take it back. Almost… The truth was that Sharon had noticed for weeks that Sam wanted to talk to her about something, but was uncertain about it. Sure, she was worried about her sister, but Sam had been showing signs that something was bothering her before that.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Sam was always more emotional when she drank. Sharon had to be careful not to start an argument. She truly just wanted to know more about what was wrong here. It was more than just worry over her sister. Sharon wasn't sure if it was Rusty being there or unresolved feelings relating to her father. Whatever it was, Sharon wished Sam would just tell her. "Nothing," Sharon said cautiously, "It just seems to me that something has been troubling you for the last couple of weeks. I'm here if you want to talk to me about it is all." Sharon lightly patted Sam on her thigh as Sam lowered her head and fiddled with a loose string on the blanket. "Hey, you don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. I'd just like to know what is wrong is all. I want to help. I know it didn't seem like it today, but I do," Sharon assured. Sam sniffled and Sharon saw a single drop of moisture fall to the blanket. Now, she truly wanted to take back her previous remark. "Don't cry," Sharon implored. She brought her hand to Sam's chin and forced her to look at her. "Baby, what is it?" Sharon asked her sad counterpart as she wiped a single tear stain from her cheek. "I don't know," Sam answered her, then leaned in and kissed her lips. She'd probably meant it to be a seductive kiss, but toward the end, it felt more…gloomy than anything else. Not in a deeply depressing way, but in an exhausted kind of way.

"Can we just sleep?" Sam sighed when she pulled away and leaned her forehead against Sharon's. "Please," Sharon answered her. She wouldn't press the woman anymore tonight while she was clearly wasted. Sharon moved from the couch and gathered the wine glass, the empty bottle of wine, and the rum and headed to the kitchen with them. She didn't want Rusty to wake up to them in the morning. When she finished cleaning up, she took Sam by the hand and led her to bed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"_Dad?" Sam called down the dark empty corridor of her childhood home. The family portrait confirmed the location in her head as she stepped out of the doorway and into the darkness. The hard tiled floor was illuminated in a bright light that made the edges of the skin on her bare feet appear a luminous red. She began to put one foot in front of the other in imitation of a previous painfully familiar scene. This couldn't be the same place. She couldn't possibly be back here. An uneasy sick feeling loomed over her and then crashed harshly into her chest. _

_She wanted to call Sharon's name like some sort of safety word, but instead again called for her father as she neared the memorable edge of the bright red pool that certainly awaited her at the end of the hallway. Just like before, she crept guardedly toward the crimson liquid as if she didn't already know it waited; she was still shocked when she finally reached her destination. "Dad!" She screamed at him in vain. He was flat on his back against the floor. His green eyes were open, on his face was an expression of shock, and a single bullet hole rested perfectly between his glazed gaze. Tears streamed down Sam's face as she leaned over the limp body of her father and rested her head on his chest. She looked back to his face and immediately noticed the difference. "This isn't right," she said to herself, "The bullet entered the right temple." _

"_Sam." Samantha turned at the sound of Sara's voice and found her sister sitting calmly in one of the kid's sized wooden dining chairs that matched her childhood table play set, gun in hand. No, this isn't what happens. Her jaw went slack with shock. "Sara? What? But…Dad…" Sam stammered as she looked back to an empty floor where the body of her father rested only seconds ago. He had vanished along with the pool of blood underneath him. This was not how the dream went. Sam thought as she turned back to her sister's melancholy gaze. "You're the best," Sara spoke softly before raising the gun and placing it awkwardly in her own mouth. "No! Stop!" Sam yelled. She tried to reach for her sister but something was pinning her arms to her side. She couldn't move; her feet were firmly planted on the floor, unable to move. She was frozen in place. Her arms… Somebody was holding her arms; something was holding her back. Sara's finger tightened on the trigger._

* * *

Sam's squirming woke Sharon. Usually, she didn't move a muscle in her sleep. That was especially true when they slept in this position. Sam was on her back and Sharon's head rested just beside her shoulder, her arm protectively splayed across Sam's chest securely in place like a safety belt.

"No…Stop…" Sam muttered as she struggled harder against Sharon's embrace. "Sam," Sharon called to her partner. She removed her arm and sat up allowing her bedmate to break free. Sam shot up in the bed, and Sharon reached to click on the lamp.

The pale white color of Sam's lips and the horror in her eyes combined with her labored breathing alarmed Sharon. "Hey," she said, but got no response from the woman who stared blankly at the wall in front of her. She obviously couldn't catch her breath. Sharon tried to shake Samantha out of her violent trance with no success. _Is she still asleep? _ Sharon wondered frantically as she moved in front of the gasping Sam and looked directly into her eyes. "Sam…Sam!" She called to her as she seized both sides of her girlfriend's face with her hands in a panicked attempt to force Sam to actually see her. Something in Sam's features clicked in recognition when she did, and she grabbed onto both of Sharon's wrists desperately. Her breathing slowed and she fell, relieved, into Sharon's embrace.

"It's okay. You were dreaming," Sharon consoled when her own heartbeat finally started to slow. "Sharon, we have to find Sara," Sam said hysterically and pulled away from Sharon's arms. "She… she needs us…She has a problem, Sharon. I can…I can't find…my dad…" Sam was getting worked up again. "Your dad?" Sharon questioned. When Sam's breathing became erratic once again, Sharon decided she didn't need an answer.

"Okay, okay. Listen, I will do everything I can to find Sara. I promise. Slow down," she ordered her softly, "Tell me what happened." Sam took a deep breath and exhaled as she seemed to accept Sharon's promise.

"It was just a dream," Sam seemed to be telling herself rather than Sharon, effectively calming herself down. Her wet skin glistened under the dim light of the lamp. Sharon took Sam's clammy hand in her own. "You're sweating," Sharon unnecessarily informed Sam after a long silence. She gently brushed a loose hair out of Sam's eyes and simultaneously used the back of her hand to wipe a bead of sweat from the other woman's forehead . "Samantha…Tell me," Sharon implored.

Sharon knew that Sam knew exactly what she was asking. She had never before seen such fear in Sam's eyes and it truly scared her. Sharon had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with Sam's father. Sharon didn't know anything about the man. Sam never really talked about him, but these last few weeks she seemed more fixated on him. Maybe that combined with her sister running off had triggered these nightmares she'd been having recently. They must have something to do with her father. Sharon wondered if Sam would ever open up to her about these unresolved issues. She would certainly like for her to, but she didn't want to push. Sam almost looked as if she were going to open up, but in an instant her face changed, and she had decided against it. Like so many times before in the past weeks, she seemed to retreat back into herself.

"I need to shower," she said as she squeezed Sharon's hand. Sam wrapped herself in her dark purple cotton robe. "Are you okay?" Sharon asked before Sam reached the bedroom door. "I'm fine," Sam assured her, "It was just a dream. I'm fine. I just…I'm sweaty. I need to clean up." Sharon nodded her head and Sam continued through the door. She had half a mind to follow her, but she quickly decided against it. There was obviously something that Samantha was dancing around. Something was keeping her up at night, but Sharon didn't want to further upset the woman. She knew she would have to eventually pull it out of her, for it was a rapidly thinning tight rope the two were balancing over this delicate issue, but maybe not this morning. She would give Sam a little more time to come to her on her own.

Sharon returned to her side of the bed and laid her head back on the pillow. It was 6:30 AM, and she had every intention of letting the sound of the water hitting the shower tile lull her back to sleep as the last thirty minutes ticked by before she had to be up. The sound of the television coming to life in the living room changed her plans. She may as well just get up for the day. There was no way she'd be falling back to sleep anyway.

* * *

Rusty turned away from the television at the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway. Sharon stopped at the entryway and leaned against the wall. "Oh, good morning," he greeted the stone faced woman sheepishly. She nodded her head in acknowledgement, but didn't say a word as she continued into the kitchen. Probably headed for the coffeepot. Remembering his discussion with Sam the night before, he clicked off the television and followed the captain into the kitchen. He needed to apologize now, because he hated feeling like he'd upset Sharon badly enough for her to ignore him. He absolutely loathed being ignored.

He still felt like he was on shaky ground sometimes, but he was starting to get used to living here with her and Sam. That was something that made him uneasy. He sat down trepidatiously as the captain removed two mugs from the cupboard, part of her morning routine he had come to realize, and in complete silence, she set up the coffeepot to brew. "So, are you just not talking to me on purpose?" Rusty asked as he fiddled with the edge of the place mat. Sharon quirked an eyebrow up at him and proceeded coolly to the fridge for the creamer. "I try to avoid conversations with people who cannot treat me as respectfully as I treat them," Sharon responded. "Yea," Rusty nodded, "Look, I guess…I knew that talking about the trial would cause trouble and I did it anyway. I don't know why, and I'm…sorry. It's just everyone was talking about their families this and that and their brothers and sisters…their awesome vacations to the beach. I couldn't stand it."

"You can't blame—" "The other kids because their lives are easier…I know," Rusty hastily finished her sentence, "Sam said the same thing…basically." The corners of Sharon's lips pulled upward in what seemed like the beginning of a smirk. "She did, huh?" "Yeah," Rusty replied, "And I am sorry. I know I haven't been the most _respectful _ person around here or easy...But I'm just not sure I belong at St. Joseph's." "Right now, you'll be stranger no matter where you go, and every school I send you to will come with challenges. Challenges you've already overcome at St. Joseph's," Sharon said as she filled each mug with coffee. What was she talking about? Rusty didn't feel like he'd overcome anything. He still felt just as insecure about the idea of the Catholic school as ever. "What challenges have I overcome?" Rusty asked with sincere curiosity. "Well," the captain started as she securely placed the pot back in its rightful place, "I'm sure it'll be a while before the bullies feel they can beat up on you again. Don't you agree?" Rusty shrugged. "Rusty, the longer you avoid sticking in one place the harder it will get," Sharon finished.

"She is exactly right," Sam said as she briskly entered the kitchen and grabbed the mug that Sharon held out to her. Wet dark hair hung past her midsection as she sipped from the cup. Sam was curiously dressed for work extra early this morning. It must be nice to feel like you were part of a team, Rusty thought as he watched the two women. Though, he briefly wondered about the puzzled look Sharon was giving to a seemingly unaware Sam. Rusty got an idea then. "You make deals with criminals, right?" "Mmhmm," Sharon hummed her confirmation. "Then what about making a deal with me?" "What kind of deal?" Sharon asked. "I can do this, Sharon. I can go to your Catholic school…I can be civil. But as soon as it's time for me to leave, you have to give me some notice. I'd just like for us all to admit that I'm eventually going to have to leave here and start over somewhere else." Rusty knew that this living arrangement he had was anything but permanent, and he just wanted everybody to stop pretending that it was. See, he really liked it here, and he couldn't take the dishonesty that the two very generous women actually intended on letting him stay here.

"That is true, Rusty. No matter what happens here…or how long you stay you will have to go off on your own and be the new kid again. You should know that no matter where you go…No matter when, I will always know you," Sharon told him certainly. Rusty shifted his eyes toward Sam, who was obviously following the conversation. "You sure?" he asked. "Absolutely," Sam validated Sharon's claim, "Whether you like it or not."

Sharon smiled at her counterpart and nodded her head in agreement. "Whether I like it or not?" Rusty echoed back in the form of a question. Sharon extended her hand to him then. "That's right…Deal?" Rusty accepted her hand in a firm, friendly handshake. "Deal," he said.

"Well, I guess I should get ready for school," Rusty said as he pulled his hand away from Sharon's. He looked between the two women. Samantha had her nose in her coffee cup, and Sharon seemed a little tense still. Did it still have something to do with him? Were they fighting with each other? He decided to ask before he headed to his room.

"Are you guys okay?" Sharon looked at him quizzically, and turned to Sam who still seemed fascinated by the black liquid in her mug. "Yes, we're fine," Sharon answered. Rusty looked to Sam, but still, she didn't look up. He didn't miss the nudge that Sharon gave to her side. "Oh, yes…yes. We're excellent, Rusty," Sam told him positively, snapping out of her trance. "Right," Rusty said sarcastically and continued to his room.

* * *

As soon as Rusty left the kitchen, Sharon noticed that Sam was staring back into her mug. Sharon cleared her throat in order to catch her girlfriend's attention, but Sam didn't look at her. "If your nose goes any further into that mug, you're going to need a snorkel," Sharon quipped. At that, Sam stood up straighter, took a final gulp of her coffee, and quietly poured the rest down the sink . "Do you...want to tell me what you were dreaming about?" Sharon asked frankly.

"No," Sam answered her. Sharon figured as much, but it didn't hurt to ask. "Okay, Samantha," Sharon said as she stepped closer to Sam, "I'm starting to get worried." "Don't be worried. I'm fine. People have bad dreams…It's nothing," Sam told her. She was obviously lying. "Sounded more like a nightmare," Sharon corrected her. Sam sighed heavily, but she kissed Sharon lightly.

"You're okay?" Sharon asked when Sam pulled away from her, and headed for the dining room. "Yes, I am okay," Sam answered as she pulled her bag over her shoulders and retrieved her keys from the counter. She still didn't believe her. Sharon was frustrated, and she knew that Sam could tell. Where was she going this early, anyway? She was clearly desperate to avoid conversation. "You're going to work this early?" Sharon questioned. "Yes, I am. I'll try to be home early also. Okay?" Sam paused at the door and took in Sharon's detective-like expression. "Your hair is still wet," Sharon pointed out. Sam shrugged, "It'll dry. I like my natural messy waves sometimes." Sharon wanted to keep interrogating Sam, but she held her tongue. Instead, she told Sam to have a good day at work, and regretfully watched her leave. She would get an explanation soon enough.

* * *

"Captain?"

"Yes, Lt. Tao? Come in."

Tao entered the office at her command. D.D.A. Andrea Hobbs was sitting across from her, and Rusty sat behind the D.D.A. in a green seat against the wall. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but there is a Sgt. Miller here from missing persons. He says he needs to speak with you," Tao reported. "Oh…okay," Sharon said. "Well," Hobbs said as she stood, "I'll let you get to that." Sharon stood with her and motioned for Rusty to follow them out the door. "See, Rusty. You are not the only issue the city of Los Angeles is dealing with this afternoon. Thank you Lieutenant." Tao nodded his head in affirmation and left the office along with Hobbs and Rusty. "I'm assuming you have homework?" Sharon continued to address the boy. "They're making us read Hamlet," he responded as he headed in the direction of the break room. "That should take some time," Sharon told him as she mouthed for Buzz to follow the boy. Buzz understood and headed off in Rusty's direction. The break room was occupied with a friend of the victim of the homicide slash kidnapping they were currently investigating. Buzz would find somewhere else for Rusty to do his homework. She noticed Sgt. Miller waiting patiently across the room.

"Look," Hobbs said, "What you tell the boy is up to you. I'm not sure the father has any legal standing, and he may know as little about Rusty as Rusty knows about him." Sharon didn't know what to do with this information. This could possibly be a good thing for Rusty, but with the boy's family history, she was hesitant to look any further into it at the moment. Of course, she was not going to be telling Rusty anything until she had a chance to look over the file Hobbs had handed her. "Okay. Thank you for bringing me this information. I will obviously consider it," she told the D.D.A. before she left to join the rest of the team. She was helping them go through the files of a divorce attorney whose children were currently being held for ransom. The son had already turned up dead, but they hadn't yet notified the parents. They didn't want to jeopardize their chance at finding the murdered boy's sister.

At that point, Sgt. Miller approached her and she welcomed him into her office. There just wasn't enough time in the day. "What can I help you with, Sergeant?" She had assumed that it had something to do with Sara. Why else would someone from missing persons want to speak with her? "Well, I just wanted to talk to you about some suspicious behavior we noticed while following up with the case you asked us about," he told her as he sat down in front of her desk. "Whose suspicious behavior?" Sharon asked as she stood casually behind her desk. She'd been sitting for hours poring over the documents Hobbs had sent over. She needed a break. "Blake Randal, the boyfriend of the missing girl. When we went by his house, everything seemed to be in order…" Miller trailed off. "Everything seemed to be in order…but…"

"I know this isn't much to go on, but he just seemed less than straight forward. Wouldn't look us directly in the eye…Couldn't give us any straight answers. He seemed a bit drunk but not hammered. It could be no cause for concern, but I just got bad vibes from the guy. He was a real asshole. Of course, it's not illegal to be an ass, but... I know it's not enough of anything that we can really look into, but since you asked us personally to further investigate the case, I thought you should know," Miller finished. "Okay," Sharon said considerately. She didn't know what to do with this information either.

She had never met Blake personally, and only knew him from Sam's stories. He sounded like a jerk, which was Sara's type. Sharon didn't know, and she would have to put it on the back burner because through the windows in her office, Provenza was waving to her. They had found something.

"Uhm…I appreciate very much you keeping me informed, Sgt. Miller. Is there anything else more concrete you found that I should be aware of?" She asked. "No ma'am. Her car is gone. So we assume that she is with it. There's a very real possibility that she just skipped town, and doesn't want to be in contact with anyone. She does have an addiction problem, and she has been reported missing once before by her sister, Samantha Grey. That was about two years ago," Miller answered. "I know," Sharon replied and walked to the door, holding it open for the Sergeant. "Thank you, Sgt. Miller." "No problem, Captain," he took the hint and headed out. Sharon took a deep breath and joined the rest of her team in the murder room. This was turning into a very long day.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: It's been a while. This is just a short update. I haven't forgotten about this story. Next update will be soon for those of you still reading...**

**Chapter 9**

As the sun slowly faded in a colorful burst of pink and purple in the east, the moon was a faint crescent rising in the west. Samantha sat on the shore, khaki pants rolled up just above her ankles, toes curling in the sand. Life didn't often allow for time to appreciate the sunset even though dusk had been her favorite time of day ever since she could remember the trips taken to this beach during her childhood. Her father would load them up in his pickup—Sara in the middle, herself next to the window— and pop in his bluesy tunes for the drive from Phoenix, where they lived at the time.

They would set up camp on the beach back in those days. Some years their mother would join, but usually it was just the three of them. He would get the fire going just before dusk and watch the sun set and the moon rise. "These are the best few seconds of the day, kiddo," he would say as he scooped her into his lap, "See, there. The sun and moon are sharing the sky. It doesn't last long, but it's pretty amazing if you think about it."

Even with everything she couldn't recall from her childhood, she could imagine most moments shared during those annual trips like they were yesterday. She should start them again with Sharon, she thought as she stood from the sand and walked toward the rising tide of the pacific.

"It's a beautiful sunset." Sharon's voice came to her like a whisper. "You found me," Samantha said as she turned to face the woman standing at a distance with her hands tucked securely in the front pockets of her business slacks. "Jenny told me you were here. I thought I was supposed to pick you up from the magazine," she reminded her. "I know. I'm sorry. I lost track of time. I had to get out for a minute is all," Sam said," My father used to love this exact time of day." Sharon's eyebrow arched inquisitively, Sam could see it do so even from the distance between them, which Sharon was currently closing. "You know," she said, "That's the first real detail you've ever told me about your father." "Well…What do I know about your father?" Sam remarked, half playful half unnecessarily defensive.

"What do you want to know?"

Sam just shrugged her shoulders in response and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Did you walk here?" Sharon asked in a welcome subject change.

"Yes, it's not that far. My car should be ready by the end of next week," She informed Sharon unhappily.

"Damn LA drivers," She mumbled. Samantha didn't miss Sharon's disapproving frown. "It wasn't my fault," she defended herself. "Right," Sharon stated sarcastically, "The empty vehicle parked in front of you put itself in reverse and backed into you."

"I thought I saw Sara," Sam pitifully explained, "And they were parked way too close."

Sharon sighed and continued to move forward. "You're driving yourself crazy, you know," Sharon told her.

Now an arm's length away from the other woman, Sam noticed for the first time the red folder tucked underneath Sharon's right arm. "What's that?" Sam asked.

"Oh," Sharon replied suddenly recalling, "It's something we need to talk about." She handed the folder over to Sam. "Doesn't sound particularly good," She noted as she received the folder and cautiously opened it, half expecting it to be about Sara. "Well, it isn't necessarily bad," Sharon assured.

"Okay…" Sam said as she looked at the birth certificate sitting on top. "Rusty's birth certificate?" Sam inquired. Sharon took the document and moved it to the bottom of the stack. Now, Sam was looking at the mug shot of an apparent felon, Paul Dunn. "DDA Hobbs brought this to my attention this afternoon. It seems that the lab running the DNA evidence in the Phillip Stroh case has found a familial match for Rusty." "An uncle," Sam recited, "A criminal, arrested for dealing cocaine. So, Rusty's…_paternal_ uncle is in prison? Do we need to know this?"

Sharon gave her a puzzled look. "Well, I just mean…What are we supposed to do with this information exactly?"

"There's more," Sharon continued in response, "Paul Dunn has an older brother who will most likely test positive as Rusty's biological father." Samantha was thoroughly confused. Rusty told them before that his father died when he was a baby. What did it mean to them that an uncle was found? It wasn't like Paul Dunn had any chance of taking Rusty in. The man was in prison and would be for a very long time. Then, she read the little information provided for Daniel Dunn, the alleged biological father. The addresses listed under his name were as recent as last year.

"Wait, a _living _brother?" Sam asked. Sharon nodded her head with a simultaneous, "Yes."

Samantha considered what this meant for a short moment. Rusty thought his father was dead. That's what he'd told them, anyway. Samantha flipped through the documents, skimming them. There wasn't much more to read through besides a few DMV papers. She looked more closely at the birth certificate. Father's name was blank. "We have to tell him?" Sam asked with a sigh as she handed the folder back over to Sharon, who accepted it with a disbelieving look.

"Of course, I think we have to tell him," She replied, "You don't?"  
"I don't know. He seems fine with us…Won't that complicate matters around here?"  
Sharon nodded as if she understood, but questioned, "Wouldn't you want to know?"  
Sam shrugged. The answer was not as obvious to her. "Where is Rusty, anyway?"

* * *

"Sam," Rusty said as soon as Sharon had the key in the ignition, "What do you think about a bus pass?"

"Well, my car will be out of the shop in just a week. I was hoping my darling Captain here would be happy to escort me around town until then," Sam teased Sharon as she pulled out of beach parking and onto the street, toward home.  
"That's not what he means, Dear," Sharon said and exchanged a playful glance with Sam.

"Not for you. For me," Rusty corrected her, "Just to get to school and back. It's embarrassing riding around with cops all the time."

"Oh, well….who would look after you while we're at work?"

Sharon smiled because she had responded with almost that exact statement when Rusty brought this up with her earlier.

Rusty huffed and pouted in the back. "Do the two of you share a brain or something? It's got to be illegal for her to be asking cops to pick me up and drop me off places all the time. Don't the police have better things to do?"

"Well, you are a material witness…Probably some fine print somewhere that says it's okay for you to have a police escort," Sam responded, "But I can start picking you up from school if you'd rather?"

Rusty rolled his eyes, "You don't even think about coming home until at least six thirty some days."

"I can make the time," Sam shrugged, "Some days."

Sharon smiled somberly to herself and placed her hand over Sam's. The daylight was now completely gone as she pulled into the parking garage. After spending the earlier part of the evening saving a young girl from her kidnappers and then listening to her parent's cries when she had to inform them that their other child was dead, she was just glad to finally be that much closer to home. The meeting with the detective from missing persons was still in the back of her mind, where it had been all day.

Blake's behavior was suspicious to Sgt. Miller, but it was even more suspicious to Sharon considering how quickly after his visit from the police he called Sam to tell her that he had heard from Sara. She was having a hard time dismissing that unlikely coincidence. Maybe it was just her natural instinct to suspect foul play, but things happened. She wanted to talk to Sam about it, but she was afraid to worry her unnecessarily.

"How was Hamlet?" Sharon asked Rusty once they were inside the apartment. Rusty was unpacking his things and laid the book down on the coffee table. "Long," Rusty answered, "Hamlet is haunted by the ghost of his father in the first act. Then, his father comes back for a minute. And nothing really happens until the end."

Sharon looked to Sam, who briefly stopped what she was doing and returned the knowing gesture. She knows that they are both thinking about the irony of Rusty's homework assignment, given they now know that Rusty's father is alive. Sam continued to fiddle with her bag, and Sharon realized from his expression that their short exchange did not go unnoticed.

"So," she continued the conversation, "You actually read it?"  
"You think I lied to you? It's the police who lie about everything," Rusty said.

Sam arched an inquisitive eyebrow. Sam hadn't been there today to catch Rusty's small jabs concerning the way the police operated. This was the teenager's quibble for the day, tricky, lying cops. "How do I know you won't lie to me if you think it's necessary?" Sharon glanced over to Sam, making sure she was okay with what she wanted to say next. Sam nodded her head in response.

"I won't lie to you, I promise," She said as she moved to pull the red folder from underneath her small stack of paperwork. "I'll tell you everything I know…as soon as I have had a reasonable opportunity to assess the facts."

She handed the file over to Rusty and he accepted it with curious ease.

"What is this?" He asked.

"Open it," Sam said.

Rusty opened the document and began to read through it. He skipped over his own birth certificate with complete disinterest. The two women watched his face go from curious to disbelief as he read. He sat down on the couch behind him, and Sam followed.

"You understand what you're reading, Rusty?" Sam asked.

"This is a DNA match for my dead father?"

"This is your DNA as a near match for Paul Dunn, and his brother, Daniel, we believe will test out to be your biological father," Sharon explained.

Rusty looked down at the paper in front of him and asked, "Daniel Dunn? That's supposed to be my father?" "That's right," Sharon answered him.

The expression on Rusty's face could only be described as disappointment as he shook his head and retired the documents to the table in front of him. "So," he shrugged, "Everything my mom ever told me…ever…is a lie." Rusty squeezed his hands into tight fists and looked between the two of them. Sharon didn't quite know what to say, but Sam seemed to be at an even bigger loss for words. _Poor kid, _she thought.

"Rusty—" Sam began, but he cut her off.

"Do we have to talk about this right this second?"

"Uhm…" Sam hesitated and looked to Sharon.  
"No, we don't have to talk about it now. If that's what you want," Sharon responded calmly.

"I just want to go to my room, I think." Rusty looked as if he might be about to cry, but Sharon couldn't be sure. Rusty picked his things up and started to head to his room. Halfway there, he turned back and retrieved the folder from the table. "Can I take this?" He asked.

"Of course," Sharon told him.

The door slammed harder than either woman expected. "Well…that went… Well?" Sam reflected as she stood from the couch next to Sharon, who didn't respond. "Do you think we should go talk to him?"

"No, I think he just needs time to process," Sharon answered.

* * *

_Where is my concentration tonight? _ Sam thought to herself. Fingers tapped too lightly against keys, pretending. The sounds her tapping fingers made against the keys on the keyboard of the laptop made it sound as if she were actually making progress, but the light pressure being applied was only enough to make it sound as if she were typing. She stopped her impatient tapping for the smallest second as what she thought was an idea flashed through her head. Just as fast as the thought came, it went, and Sam absentmindedly tapped her fingers against the keyboard again.

She looked over to Sharon, who appeared to be actually getting work done on her side of the bed. Her papers were spread across the flat sheets, her glasses rested on the edge of her nose, and her hair pulled haphazardly away from her face. She looked so serious.

"With all that noise you're making over there, one might think you were actually typing something," Sharon observed. She was only lightly poking fun at Sam, but in her current state, Sharon's teasing on further irritated her.

Sharon looked up from her papers and pushed her glasses back so that they were again resting properly on her face. Sam slammed the laptop shut in frustration and banished it to the floor next to the bed. There was no way she was getting any work done.

"I hate this…I can't think," She said as she crossed her arms in front of her chest childishly. Sharon cocked her eyebrow at the short tantrum. "Can I help?"

"No. It's my brain. It won't stop…I can't focus. Maybe I'll just pull my article. It doesn't _have _to be there," she said. "Well, honey…You have a month before the next issue. You don't have to finish it tonight…Sleep on it a little," Sharon tried to encourage her. It was sweet, but it wasn't really helping.

"Is it Sara?" Sharon asked as she removed her glasses from her face and placed her hand gently on Sam's thigh.

Sam shrugged. "Mostly…but it's not just Sara. It's Blake. I have to keep him until she shows up again, and all I really want to do is fire the bastard. And this thing with Rusty…Maybe we should have made him talk to us about this father thing. He seemed kind of upset."

"He'll come to us when he's ready to talk about it," Sharon said positively.

"You're sure about that, huh?" "Yes, I am." Sharon smiled smugly. She'd done this before, the mother thing. "You're a good mom. Such a professional… Is this how you were with your children?"

"I wouldn't say I'm a professional. I've just had a lot of practice. You make me feel old sometimes," Sharon joked. Sam rolled her eyes. "Stop, I'm not _that _young." Sam looked into Sharon's eyes and couldn't help but be irritated, despite the love she saw in them.

She didn't know why, but she was just in that kind of mood tonight. She knew that Sharon knew this. By now, each of them could read the other's temperament expertly, which made it nearly impossible for them to fool each other.

"So, are you going to tell me about what's got you so on edge?" Sam knew the question was coming, and she had been dreading it. That's partly the reason she had stalled coming home from work by running off to the beach. She didn't want to face Sharon's questions about her nightmares. She didn't want to think about her dead father anymore. She didn't want to worry about her sister. She just wanted to be happy again like she was before Sara disappeared and Rusty came into their lives and she started having the nightmares again. She didn't even know what had triggered them, but here she was again, avoiding sleep. Sam sighed…Was this it? Now was as good a time as any to confess all her secrets.

As she stared into Sharon's curiously concerned and questioning features, she wondered if she could even get the words out. The incident had been pent up inside her for so long, she just didn't think it was capable of coming out. Where would she even start?

Once it was out there, what would she be? What would they be? Of course, it wouldn't change anything between them. Would it? She knew she was probably just being stupid. Maybe if she only told Sharon half of the dream she would feel better.

"She tried to kill herself," Sam said. Sharon's eyes grew wider and more curious. "In my dream Sara put a gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger. I tried to stop her, but it was like I was stuck. I couldn't move my arms or legs. Nothing," Sam recounted just the ending of her dream. It felt wrong to leave the rest out, but she just wasn't ready.

"Is this…what you've been dreaming the last few nights? Are you worried that Sara might actually—"  
"No," Sam cut her off promptly, "No, I don't think she would kill herself. It's just a disturbing image. I don't like even the thought of it. I hate it even more that I can't just call her and hear her voice and know that she's fine because she's disappeared."

Sharon looked as if she were in deep thought as she placed her hand comfortingly on the small of Sam's back. Something was there. Sharon wanted to say something; Sam caught it when she stopped herself. "What is it, Sharon?"

"Nothing…I just…I…What do you think about Blake?"  
"You don't know by now what I think about him?" Sam asked rhetorically.  
"No, I know. It's just I got a visit today from the detective that followed up on Sara's missing persons case, and he said that Blake was acting strange. He was avoiding the questions asked of him, not making eye contact, and was intoxicated," Sharon explained.

"He's always drunk. And he's always acting strange… Wait, what kind of strange? Strange, as in 'I killed your sister in a fit of rage'?" Sam joked dryly.

Sharon gave a light, chuckle as if to say, unconvincingly, the notion were absurd, of course she hadn't even thought of that. Sam cursed Sharon in her head for making her think this thought. As unpredictable and alcoholic as Blake was, she didn't see him as the type to kill. Then again…lots of murderers don't seem like the murdering type.

"Oh my god, is that what you're thinking?"

"No, I'm just asking a question. I don't know. I don't know him…But I see these things a lot. Probably why I'm overly cautious when I hear things like that," Sharon dismissed the idea as easily as she had brought it up.

"Well, now I'm paranoid that Blake knows more than he's telling," Sam sighed.  
"It's more likely that Sara just ran off. Maybe he just knows where she is and is protecting her secret," Sharon suggested. The warning was written all over the older woman's face. Investigation was her area of expertise, and she didn't want Sam to look any further into it.

"What? I wasn't going to do anything…Just break into his apartment and maybe hack into his email or something. Maybe read his texts." Sharon's look got more scathing. "I'm serious, Sam. You'll only cause more problems for yourself. Sara is just in hiding. She'll show up."

"Think about it, though. He called me to let me know that Sara had contacted him right after the police showed up. Did he tell the detectives that she called?"

"No, he didn't," Sharon admitted.

"That's why you brought this up to me because you know that it's suspicious behavior," Sam accused.

"Of course it's suspicious. That's why I want you to not agitate or provoke him, or otherwise do anything that will piss him off," Sharon said.

"What are we even talking about here? Jesus, do you really think he did something to her?"

"No, I don't…necessarily think that. There are a million reasons for his behavior…. All I am saying is we don't have all or even half of the facts here," Sharon reasoned calmly.

"But you don't want me provoking him?"

"Better safe than sorry," Sharon shrugged. Sam looked at her girlfriend incredulously. She couldn't tell just exactly what Sharon was thinking starting this conversation. Sharon must have been some kind of worried to even think about bringing this up, knowing that it would send her mind into a downward spiral of anxiety and worry. Should Sam even be entertaining the notion that Blake had harmed Sara?

And exactly how worried was Sharon? The woman was so unreadable when she was in Captain Raydor mode. She saw murders so often that she always went to worst case scenario. It _was _her job to deal with the worst kind of people, but most people didn't kill their girlfriends because they were fighting. Most drunks were strange, as well as most artists, which Blake was.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to further upset you. That wasn't my intent here. I was just curious about the meeting with the detective today. I couldn't help but ask. I'm sure your sister is just fine," Sharon soothed.

"I'm sure she is too," Sam admitted, "But I still need to know about Blake."

"I know and I will look into Blake as far as I can look into someone absent an actual crime," Sharon assured her, "Try not to worry. I probably shouldn't have brought it up. Really, it's probably nothing."

"No, I'm glad you told me. I don't ever want you to keep anything like this from me." Sam realized how almost hypocritical this statement was, considering she was the one keeping secrets. The look displayed on Sharon's features told her that the other woman could say the same. Sam was happy that she didn't.

"I wouldn't ever keep anything important from you," Sharon told her as she started to gather the papers splayed across the bed and remove them. Sam switched off her lamp and settled into the sheets. The soft pillow against her face did nothing to quiet her thoughts as she heard Sharon switch off her light as well.

With Sharon's comforting arm protectively placed over her side, Sam relaxed further into the other woman's embrace, her back rested easily against the other woman's chest. She took Sharon's hand in hers and felt a light kiss from behind against her bare shoulder. Reluctantly, she gave in to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: This turned out smuttier than I intended it... Rated M.**

For the sixth night in a row, Sharon was woken by the sound of the bare feet against hardwood floor. Before she could process the feeling of being suddenly awake, she heard the sound of the shower. The clock read three-thirty A.M. Another week had passed and Sam's nightmares were getting worse. She had been waking up at all hours of the night drenched in sweat, hence the showers. Sharon blinked a few times to clear her vision and let her eyes adjust to the darkness. The bedroom door was half open, and she could see the light peeking out from beneath the bathroom door across the hall.

She rose from bed and made her way to the bathroom. The heat from the water was dizzying and it spilled out into the hall as she opened the door. "Jesus, Sam," Sharon complained her body immediately flush, "It's like a sauna in here." Sharon opened the door to the shower and winced when she ran her hand quickly under the scalding hot water. Sam's back was to her, the skin indescribably red. Sharon didn't know how the other woman could stand the water so hot. High pain tolerance she guessed. Still, it concerned her, so she turned the knob a few notches closer to C for cold. "You're going to hurt yourself," Sharon told her. Sam seemed to be in a trance, but she snapped out of it and grabbed her by the wrist as she was reaching again for the handle after checking the water temperature. The look of lust in her eyes was not unfamiliar to Sharon, exactly. It was more intense a look than Sharon had expected. Sam's smoldering brown eyes seemed to look right through her.

"Come in here," Sam said as she tugged lightly on Sharon's arm. Sharon furrowed her eyebrows at her hesitantly, but Sam was already pulling at the hem of her shirt. What was this wild, desperate look in her eye? Sharon put her hand over Sam's before she could pull the shirt over her head. "Sam..."

"Please, just come in here. I need you to be with me," Sam pleaded, seemingly desperate. Sam didn't want to talk, but that look, it was worrisome to say the least. Her eyes were puffy as if she'd been crying. Sam was trying to seduce her. How could she tell her no? Sharon backed away from the shower and Sam didn't look away as she undressed.

The water was still hot when she stepped under it, but it wasn't unbearable as it had been. Sharon turned Sam around so she could examine the damage the hot water had done to her back. She knelt down and placed gentle, soothing kisses to the skin there. Her lips trailed from her lower back all the way up to the small tattoo of a blackbird on the back of her neck. Before she met Sam, Sharon had disliked tattoos, but Sam had turned her into a silent admirer of the art. Sam had a few tattoos, all modestly placed: the sun surrounding a crescent moon on her ankle, a small spiral on the inside of her wrist, and a bold but delicate feather along her ribcage that was quite large. Sharon traced her fingers over the feather now, as Sam turned around in her arms and captured her lips in a surprisingly searing kiss that caught Sharon off guard and had her stumbling back against the shower wall.

Sharon moaned softly as Sam released her now bruised lips and roughly kissed her way down her neck. It took nearly every ounce of her self-control to keep from lifting her head in order to grant her better access to her neck. Before she could get a word out in protest, Sam reached down between Sharon's bare thighs and ran her fingers through the wetness there, sending electric tremors up Sharon's spine. In direct conflict with her overheating body, Sharon breathlessly protested, "Wait…" That was all she could get out as Sam started a rough, dizzying assault on her clit, applying delicious pressure just where she knew Sharon liked it. "Ah," Sharon groaned maybe a little too loudly when Sam bit her hard at the base of her neck. If she was going to find out what was going on with Sam, she had to stop her now while she could muster up the will. She reached down between her legs and grabbed Sam's wrist, halting the assault. "Wait," Sharon repeated more firmly this time as Sam stopped moving her fingers against her, disappointment in her eyes.

"Talk to me for a minute, please," Sharon explained. Her green eyes clearly displayed her concern. Sam said nothing in response, brought Sharon's face to hers with her hands, and placed a wet forceful kiss to Sharon's lips under the water. Sharon tried weakly to pull away, and when she did, Sam broke the kiss angrily. "I don't want to talk," she said, her look pleading. "Please?" She asked and snaked her hand around to firmly grip Sharon's ass. Sharon melted. The woman was determined to get what she wanted. Did she even know how sad she looked? Sharon relaxed a little as she decided that maybe they didn't have to talk right now. Maybe she just needed to give Sam whatever it was that she wanted, that she needed, in this moment.

Sam must have detected Sharon's shift because the smallest smile appeared at the corners of her mouth and her hand began to make its way back to its earlier position. But Sharon wasn't about to let it happen again. When she decided not to make Sam talk, it wasn't about what she, herself, needed. This was about Sam. Once again, she stopped Sam by wrapping her fingers around her wrist. Sam whimpered and started to pull away. "No…that's not…" Sharon tried to explain to her irritated counterpart. Sam's face was a scowl as she backed away from Sharon disbelievingly.

Sharon softened her demeanor and stepped toward Sam. She caressed her cheek and softly kissed her frowning mouth as she let her hand wonder down soft, milky white skin and settle between the other woman's legs, barely touching. Sam inhaled deeply and held her breath. "Tell me what _you _want," Sharon better explained herself.

Without the slightest hesitation, Sam furiously covered Sharon's lips once again; there was so much force behind the kiss that Sharon couldn't help but let a small moan escape. Sam tried to back Sharon into the wall, but Sharon quickly turned them so that it was Sam whose back hit the wall, harder than she had intended. "Sorry," Sharon apologized breathlessly, a trembling hand now covering her own. Sam used her fingers to force Sharon to apply more pressure to her center and bucked her hips when Sharon instead moved their fingers to Sam's clit. "No," Sam whispered. "Tell me what you want," Sharon replied as she pressed harder on her clit. "Mmm…I want you to fuck me," Sam said, unusually needy, "Just fuck me please." Once again, she guided Sharon's fingers to her entrance and this time Sharon allowed it.

She slipped one finger inside and Sam was immediately begging for a second. It didn't take long at all for her walls to begin the familiar spasms around her fingers. Sam was already desperate for release, already writhing, already close. The intensity between them was a little frightening to Sharon. For the first time since their first night together, she almost felt like she didn't know what to do. "More," Sam begged shakily. Both of them were trying their best to keep it down. Sharon added a third finger with unwavering vigor and Samantha bit down on Sharon's shoulder in response, which caused her to grunt in both pleasure and pain. "Fuck…Sharon...harder," Sam demanded surprisingly. Sharon didn't know if she could put much more force behind her thrusts without hurting. "God…please…I need more," Sam repeated. It was getting to be too much. Too rough, too tumultuous. Sam's eyes were too sad and pleading; her movements were too sporadic and desperate. Her walls were squeezing impossibly tight around her fingers, but she wasn't reaching her climax.

Sharon slowed her movements amongst harsh protest. "Don't stop…uh…I'm so close…I am."

"Sharon touched Sam softly, now. Each thrust was slower as Sam rolled her hips to meet them. Sharon was trying to bring her there more gradually, the way Sam usually liked it, but Sam was being impatient tonight. She pulled Sharon in for another bruising kiss, this time biting it so that Sharon tasted blood. She again sped up her thrusts with a groan of appreciation from Sam who bucked her hips hard around Sharon's hand. She wanted it rough, but Sharon could tell it wasn't enough.

And she obeyed every command. Faster, harder, more… Faster. Harder. More.

At this point, Sharon was afraid she was hurting her. Sam was moaning in frustration, chasing her orgasm furiously. Every time Sharon felt that it was coming, that Sam was gone, something brought her back from the edge.

It was happening again. Samantha had that look. Her body tensed against Sharon. Her walls tightened impossibly tighter, strangling Sharon's tired hand. Sam held her breath and her hips jerked uncontrollably. Sharon kept going. She kept up her thrusts, waiting for the release. "Oh, God," Sam breathed, "Stop…stop. I can….mmm…I can't take it anymore…I can't." Sharon slowed down and Sam's body relaxed and the spasms subsided. Sharon extracted her fingers, but continued to stroke Sam's pussy.

"What is it?" Sharon asked. Sam didn't answer.

Instead she flipped them around. Sharon's back hit the wall with a thud, and Sam was no longer at her level. She was tracing patterns with her tongue around Sharon's belly button. "Honey, you don't have to…" Samantha shushed her. "I want to," She blew against Sharon hotly. A wave of hot heat washed over her body. This whole time she had ignored her own arousal, barely noticing just how turned on she actually was. She felt close the instant Sam lapped her tongue roughly over her clit then back to her entrance. Sam didn't tease. She entered her immediately. Sharon's eyes fluttered closed as Sam snaked her hand up to pinch the nipple of her left breast. "Oh…fuck," Sharon whimpered. Sam was going unbelievably fast. Her tongue was hitting all the right places and it was almost unbearable.

She felt a wetness run down her legs that she was sure wasn't the shower. Sam removed her tongue and Sharon thought she was going to die, but it was quickly replaced by not one but three fingers. "Uh," Sharon grunted in pain. Sam didn't move her hand for the briefest second and she stood to her feet, concern in her expression. She thought that she'd hurt her.

Sharon wrapped a leg around Sam's waist and pressed her body impossibly closer, signaling for Sam that it was okay to continue. She did. One… Two… Three hard thrusts and Sharon was spiraling toward oblivion. Her body was out of her control as her climax rapidly approached. She just needed… "Yes," She moaned, gasping for air as Sam started to rub her clit furiously with her thumb. "Oh, God…I…I'm cumming," Sharon whispered breathless as her legs went limp underneath her. If Sam hadn't been holding her up, she would have collapsed as the white light took her over.

Sam muffled Sharon's moans with her mouth, sucking at her tongue and licking her lips. Sharon barely noticed because Sam was only slowing her thrusts enough for Sharon to compose herself briefly.

Sam sucked on her neck, the spot behind her earlobe that drove Sharon wild. Sam smiled a crooked smile when Sharon whimpered at the addition of a fourth finger. "Sam," she tried to warn, but having not fully recovered from the first orgasm, her tone wasn't as convincing as she'd meant it.

Sam's thumb rolled hard over her clit, and Sharon couldn't help but roll her hips. "I can't…again," She weakly begged. "Shh," Sam said softly, "Yes you can." Sharon grunted in helpless protest and Sam rolled her thumb hard not once but twice over her sensitive nub.

"Fuck," Sharon gave in. _Fine…Again. _Sharon thought, as she brought her hips up to meet her lover's thrusts. It didn't take long and she was once again gasping for air. She moved her thigh in position between Sam's legs, applying pressure where she knew that Sam must have needed it. "God," Sam whimpered, her rhythm interrupted as she ground her core harder against Sharon's thigh. Sharon was close to orgasm, but she needed Sam to cum with her. Judging by the look on Sam's face and the way she was writhing against her, she would be able to.

Sharon was right. Sam's entire body tensed and then released as soon as Sharon entered her. "Uh…Sharon…" Samantha groaned as her body went limp. Then Sharon was gone too as they both sank, lifelessly to the bottom of the shower.

* * *

"I'm sorry." Sharon shifted beneath the sheets and adjusted her legs so that they were intertwined with Sam's. Since their shower together, they'd been lying in bed silently awkward, but not uncomfortable. Sam kissed Sharon's shoulder tenderly and softly grazed the skin of her arm with her fingertips. Sharon looked at her with probing green eyes that seemed to be filled with worry. "What are you sorry for?" She asked.

"For being so rough. I know that's not…" She stopped herself. Not quite sure where that sentence was going. "You're going to be sore," She finished instead. Sharon shrugged and turned on her side so that the two were now face to face. Sam looked away, afraid to talk for fear of having to talk about it.

When she did, Sharon tensed up beside her and she couldn't help but return her eyes to their previous focus. "Are you really going to make me force this out of you?" Sam didn't respond to Sharon's serious tone. Well, as serious as she could be after the startlingly intense experience the two had just shared.

"What is it going to take?" Sharon continued, "Torture?"

"Hmm…" Sam sighed, pretending to consider the prospect. She really wanted to talk to Sharon, but going down on her was much more appealing.

So she shuffled their bodies so that she was on top and leaned in to place a gentle kiss to Sharon's lips, which Sharon didn't allow to get any deeper. "Not until you talk," Sharon said absolutely. Sam sighed, "Is this what you mean by torture? Withholding sex, doesn't just punish me, you know." Sam pressed her thigh firmly between Sharon's legs. She was wet, but had an excellent poker face. They stayed like this for a while, staring into each other's eyes. It was a silent challenge. It was clear that Sharon wasn't going to let her win this time.

Sam surrendered with a huff and sat up straight between Sharon's legs. "I don't even know where to start, Sharon," Sam sighed. She crossed her legs Indian-style and Sharon sat up as well. "Start with what you're afraid of." Sharon told her simply.

"I don't know what I'm afraid of. I used to think I wasn't afraid of anything."  
"What are you afraid to talk about? The nightmares?"

"They're part of it…I've had them for as long as I can remember…off and on," Sam said.  
Sharon looked confused. "About Sara killing herself?"  
For a second, Sam was confused. Then, she remembered that she hadn't told Sharon the entire dream.

"No," she answered, "About my dad. He…did kill himself. When I was twelve."

Sam had to pause for minute. She hated for people to feel sorry for her, and this is why she couldn't look at Sharon. Talking about that night always made her extremely uncomfortable. She didn't like feeling like she was nonchalantly sharing a tragic story from her past. Like it was just something that happened to her. It sometimes felt like it was so real that it shouldn't even be talked about. It felt to sacred an event, to raw and to the bone to tell. She knew she had to tell Sharon this. If she didn't, it would just hang between them like it had with every relationship she'd ever tried to make work.

Sharon lifted her chin with her hand. There was sympathy in her features for sure, but it wasn't overwhelming like she'd expected it to be. It was just Sharon. As she briefly locked eyes with her, she couldn't remember the feeling of being afraid. Of course, she could tell her anything, she then realized as if it weren't obvious before.

"I was twelve…Sara was four at the time. Dad had taken her to the grocery store. He left her there. He bought flowers and drove to the hospital where my mom worked when they first started seeing each other. I guess he was going to surprise her," Sam said.

Sharon smiled slightly but sadly, "What happened?"

"Nothing…a friend saw Sara wondering around the toothpaste aisle…alone…Called my mom. She freaked out. They had no idea where he was. Shortly after I got home from school a nurse that used to work with my mom called. She'd recognized my dad and knew about his diagnosis. By seven thirty that night everything seemed…fine. Back to normal…family dinner… My dad was back, he knew who and _when _he was. He kept apologizing to my mother. He felt….horrible for leaving Sara alone…"

"And your mother?" Sharon asked.

"Ahh….my mother," Sam snickered, "she was obviously upset, but she….would never have admitted it to him. She had been…distant I guess. The episodes were getting worse. He'd be talking to you and then midsentence he would forget what he was talking about. Sometimes he would forget where he was.

That night, I got out of bed and went into the kitchen for a glass of water. My father was sitting in the dark at the dining table, writing in a notebook, what I would later understand was his suicide letter. He didn't hear me come into the kitchen."

Sharon placed her hand supportively on Sam's knee. Sam tried to see what it was in Sharon's eyes that she had been so unsure of before. She couldn't believe how easy telling this story to her was.

"I can't really describe to you the way the room felt. Like I was intruding?" A single tear that she hadn't even felt coming, rolled down her cheek, and Sharon calmly brushed it away with her thumb. "It was the quickest second of my life… He put the gun to his head and before I even had time to comprehend… to even think to say anything… He—"

"Sam," Sharon's voice soothed as another tear and then another escaped her. "He pulled the trigger." She wiped at her face quickly. "Come here," Sharon said as she pulled Sam into her arms. Sam went half unwilling and only allowed the other woman to hold her for a minute. Any longer and she would have completely lost it. "I wish I had done something, you know…" She said quietly weeping.

"What could you have done?"

"Made noise…opened my mouth. I could have let him know that I was there… Maybe if I'd just called to him before…. Maybe he wouldn't have—"

"You can't think that way," Sharon said.

"I do," Sam shrugged. "Well don't," Sharon told her, "You were a kid."  
Sam sighed heavily. She felt incredible. Like this huge weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

"Why couldn't you tell me?" Sharon asked after Sam collected herself as best she could.

"I was afraid… I don't like to think that it was real. I don't like to think that I ever had a father that could have done that to himself… to us… I don't like the way I feel when I talk about it to other people. Like I'm reciting the tragic story of somebody else's life… They don't know what to say and get uncomfortable. I don't ever want you to see me as someone that needs to be pitied or coddled. I just love what we have and I don't want to fuck it up like I know I can."

"No you can't. I love you. You can tell me anything and I will still feel that way," Sharon assured her.

Sam looked into Sharon's eyes possibly for the first time since she'd began her story. There wasn't pity there or unease. Her gestures weren't awkward or unsure. Instead, she was met with a natural compassion that radiated from the other woman unlike any moment that had ever before been shared between them. She couldn't help but feel relieved as her tears dried from her face and a sleepy exhaustion started to weigh heavily over her eyelids.

"I know," Sam admitted, "I can't believe I didn't see it before." She stroked Sharon's cheek with the back of her hand as the other woman cupped her face gently before silently she urged her to lie down beside her and get some sleep.

And for the first night in a month, she didn't think or dream about anything.


	11. Chapter 11

**BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! ****BEEP! ****BEEP!**

"Ugh," Sam groaned sleepily, "Turn it off."

Sharon reached over lazily and hit the button that immediately silenced the offensive alarm, and returned to her resting position next to Samantha, who was stretching her limbs beside her. Sharon scooted impossibly closer, pressed her lips to a peeking nipple, and sighed at the low moan that the action elicited from her waking Sam. Her hand took care of the other breast as she shuffled her body on top of the other woman. Seemingly of its own accord, her tongue delicately traced patterns over first the right and then the left breast.

"Mmm…Keep it up. You're going to make a morning person out of me," Sam gasped softly as she ran her fingers through tangled brunette waves. Sharon changed her focus to Samantha's lips. She kissed her deeply and thoroughly, leaving no part of her mouth unmapped.

**BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!  
**

Sharon only paused for a moment at the interruption of the alarm, then continued to trace a trail with her tongue from Sam's neck to her belly button. The alarm continued unaware of the disturbance it was causing. Sam whined as the noise grew louder.

**BEEP! ****BEEP! ****BEEP! BEEP!**

"I thought you turned it off?" She complained.

Sharon stopped her exploration of Sam's navel and growled in irritation, "I thought I did."  
She reached over once again to the clock and hit the OFF button instead of snooze. Sam rolled her eyes playfully and pulled Sharon back down on top before she rolled them over, effectively reversing their previous position with a giggle and a playful smack to Sharon's ass.

* * *

The cereal selection was unusually trifling this morning. Raisin Bran being the only thing that looked even a little appetizing to Rusty. He wished he hadn't been woken up so early due to the grunts a groans emanating from the ladies' bedroom. They hadn't been overwhelmingly loud, but loud enough for him to hear..things...private things.

He grimaced internally at the thought and shook the mental image from his mind as he poured milk into the bowl of cereal and searched for a spoon. His phone alerted him to a text message.

**Hey, there. What u up 2? Wanna meet?**

Rusty thought about the possibility of not answering. The text was from Leslie, a flaming queer boy, with an unfortunate, but fitting name, he had met in the chess. Rusty didn't quite know how to react to the kid. He had never before been interested in, or intrigued by such an over the top stereotypically homosexual personality, but Leslie was nice and unafraid and unapologetic. All things that Rusty admired in people.

**Rusty: Meet where?**

**Leslie: Coffee boo. **

"Good morning, Rusty. I didn't know you were up already."

Rusty took a bite of his cereal and stared into his bowl, afraid eye contact would conjure unwanted images. _Yuck. _He thought as he reached for his phone. He could feel Sharon's gaze on him. He'd forgotten to answer her. "Yea…I couldn't sleep," he said as he typed his message.

**Rusty: Sounds good. Where should we meet?**

**Leslie: You gonna walk? No no I'll pick you up. Txt the address.**

"Oh," Sharon answered curiously as Sam entered the room. _Great. _He thought as he swiftly put his bowl into the sink and headed for the living room, nearly bumping into Sam.

"Hey, where's the fire?" Sam joked.

"Uhm…sorry," he apologized, "Barely looking at her…I'm off emergency care right?"

"Yes," Sharon answered slowly.

"So, that means I can go out now? Unsupervised?" He asked as he texted the address to Leslie.

"Theoretically," Sam answered suspiciously and waved a hand between his eyes and the screen of his phone in an apparent attempt to extract his attention.

Rusty looked up at her for the first time that morning and she smiled seemingly satisfied. "Why do you ask?" She finished.

"Uhm… a friend from school invited me to go have coffee and I said I would go…if it's okay with you guys…I mean," He nervously added.

"It's fine with me," Sam shrugged and looked to Sharon.

He really hoped he wasn't being obvious; he did not want them to know he had heard them. That would be the worst thing that could happen.

"Who is this friend?" Sharon asked as she sipped her freshly poured cup of coffee. Sam was now moving in that direction, intent on her own cup.

"Just a kid from chess club. He offered to pick me up," Rusty answered casually.

"He drives?" Sharon continued her line of questioning.

"Yea," he couldn't help the impatient change in his attitude, "Everybody drives but me."

Sharon gave him a playful indignant look that suggested his reaction was unnecessary. "Okay, you can go."

Rusty smiled, happily relieved and placed his backpack on his shoulders.

"Great, I'll wait for him downstairs."

"Hey," Sharon added, "Keep your cell phone on. I better be able to reach you."

"Okay," he answered as he made it out the door.

* * *

Sam looked into Sharon's smiling face. She looked so fresh, despite the lack of sleep. She smiled at her radiantly behind her coffee cup, and Sam couldn't help but stare. Her hair was brushed into a straight flowing mane that seemed to shine in the light, and she was radiating a transparent glow. Sam hated to have to break it to her, but…

"I think he heard us," she informed Sharon. Sharon's face fell, and then contorted into a humorous disbelief. "What? Why would you say that?"

"Body language," Sam shrugged, trying unsuccessfully to disguise her amusement. "That's really not funny," Sharon corrected her.

Then, something clicked in her features, that stunning look of realization.  
"He did tell me he had trouble sleeping," Sharon pointed out.

Sam shook her head in acknowledgment and took a sip of her coffee.

"Shit," Sharon covered her face with her hands regretfully, as if to hide her embarrassment. Sam laughed at her, and Sharon smacked her arm in return.

"Come on, it's not funny. He doesn't want to hear that," Sharon lightly scolded.

"Oh…it's a little funny," Sam protested.

Sharon looked at her, an obviously distraught expression on her face.

"Oh, come on, Baby. It was bound to happen. We're human… we live across the hall from each other…. It's hard to be completely silent all the time. He's old enough. He understands," she tried her best to comfort without joking, but it was difficult for her to not be amused by the situation.

Sharon rolled her eyes and put her head in her hands.

"Jesus, okay. Let's not talk about it anymore… ever," she sighed.

"Okay," Samantha laughed rubbing Sharon's back soothingly.

"Let's not talk at all," She added and placed a kiss to Sharon's forehead then to her cheek.

Sharon looked at her incredulously. "What?" Sam feigned ignorance.

"No teenager here now. We can be as loud as you want," She explained seductively. Sharon nodded her head in disbelief.

"I can't believe you think this is a joke," Sharon said as she moved to the sink, rinsed out her mug, and set it in the dishwasher. "You're right, it's not funny," she defended herself, "But I can't help it. I'm in a pleasant mood for once."

"Pleasant huh?" Sharon mocked her playfully, and continued to bounce around the kitchen, pretending to ignore Sam. Sam wasn't bothered; she just couldn't get over how light things felt between them.

She hadn't felt that in at least a month. It was the fresh feeling of honesty. _So, this is what it's supposed to feel like… _She thought to herself as she moved to embrace Sharon from behind, connecting her hands around her waist and kissing her shoulder.

"Seriously," she said, "Thank you."

"Seriously," Sharon relaxed into her and turned so that green eyes connected with brown, "For what?"

"Nothing, just…this," Sam replied, calmly burrowing into the comfort of soft brunette waves.

Samantha took in a deep breath as if she were breathing in metaphorical fresh air. "I love you so much," she sighed.

"I love you," Sharon said before kissing her as if she had to prove that she meant it.

* * *

"Hey, cutie. Need a lift?" Leslie tilted his sunglasses, winked at him charmingly, and then placed them back in the proper position on his face.

Rusty couldn't help but feel his jaw drop at the car in front of him. A shiny new black corvette, a convertible. Leslie's sparkling white smile seemed to twinkle in the bright light of the daytime. He looked so cliché and L.A. Rusty thought to himself as he hopped into the passenger seat, discarding his bag to the back.

"You go anywhere without that thing?" Leslie joked as he put the car in drive and sped out of the space by the curb. "Just a habit," Rusty shrugged, "So, where we going?"

"A tight place in West Hollywood," Leslie beamed.

"Of course," Rusty said. "You will love it, baby boy," Leslie laughed.

"Doubt it," Rusty told him, "I used to live in West Hollywood."  
"No, kidding? What part?" The other boy inquired.  
"The broke part," Rusty joked. Leslie laughed at him.

They made it to the small café in record time. Leslie had driven like a maniac, his lead foot and swift lane changing had single handedly pissed off practically every other driver on the road.

"You know you're supposed to share the road? And yellow means slow down," Rusty told him as he slammed the door shut.

"Pssh, life is too short for sharing…and traffic," he responded as he sauntered ahead of Rusty toward the _Neptune_ café. A hesitant Rusty followed him silently into the establishment.

Leslie seemed to fit right in here in his dark hipster skinny jeans and his tight white V-neck, with his perfectly sculpted faux hawk and naturally tan skin.

His face was undeniably adorable and he turned more than one head as he stepped up to the counter and ordered for the both of them. When he was finished he guided them to an empty table near the window.

"What if I didn't want a cappuccino?" Rusty asked as he sat on the metal seat.

"You'll want this one, honey. I ordered it special," he winked as he removed the shades from his face and rested them on the top of his shirt, the action revealed his crystal blue eyes for the first time since he'd pulled up to the curb of the apartment complex. Rusty avoided those eyes as they were piercingly beautiful. S_uspiciously beautiful_, Rusty thought. Was this guy trying to dazzle him?

"So, recognize anybody from the old neighborhood?" He asked.

Rusty looked around considering the faces of the other patrons. He saw somebody.

"That guy over there in the corner," he offered and discreetly tilted his head to the unstylishly dressed older gentlemen with the silver dotted hair in the corner booth. He was reading quietly to himself, sipping coffee from what looked like a mug he'd brought from home; his glasses rested snobbishly on the edge of his nose.

"Considerably older, Rusty…Not bad…He's handsome. Distinguished," Leslie observed.

The waitress came by and set their drinks down in front of them.

"Can I get you guys anything else?" She offered cheerfully.

"No thank you, darling," Leslie answered graciously.

She nodded her head once and walked away happily.

"He was a hustle?"

"You say that like you're surprised," Rusty observed before burning his tongue on the hot beverage. The reaction to the heat of the liquid seemed to amuse Leslie.

"Not surprised…well, maybe a little. Most gay men who pay for sex are in the closet," Leslie shared.

"Maybe he is…dark booth…all alone in the corner…"

"Clearly fashion ignorant," Leslie finished.

"Yea," Rusty laughed sarcastically, "Clearly."

Rusty had no particular interest in the latest fashion trends; it was obvious that Leslie did.

"So, what's the weirdest thing a client ever asked you to do?" Leslie asked bluntly.

Rusty sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Can we not talk about sex? I've heard enough of it today."  
"Ooh?" Leslie perked up interested, "Enough sex? Do tell…"

"No, not me… just…the women I'm staying with…"  
"Ah….the lesbians… Wait… Lesbians can have sex?" Leslie joked sarcastically.

Rusty didn't laugh. "It's not funny. It's gross. They're like old…parental figures I guess. I mean imagine your parents—"

"I'm gonna stop you there. It's not even the same thing. You're not related to your foster moms," Leslie corrected.

"Fair enough," Rusty agreed, "It's still gross." He thought about the term foster mom and mentally associated it with Sharon and Sam. What a strange thought.

"Totally agree, I like my sex vagina free, thank you," Leslie crudely joked, "But hey, everybody has sex, boo. The circle of life and shit."

Rusty shook his head at the other boy's sometimes bluntly vulgar comments. Leslie's smile sparkled in his direction again. There was what seemed like a moment that passed between them before the other boy spoke again, somewhat flirtatiously. that was just the way Leslie talked, Rusty had concluded. It didn't necessarily mean that he was talking to someone special he reminded himself.

"So, speaking of parental figures… Where are you at on the whole long lost bio dad situation?" Leslie asked with a glimmer in his eye and a tone of sincere curiosity.

"I'm nowhere," Rusty shrugged, "I don't know anything about the guy."

"And you never will with that attitude," Leslie quipped.

Rusty shot him glowering glare. "Oh, come on. Aren't you just the least bit curious?"

"Maybe. I don't like the idea of possibly bringing another disappointing asshole into my life. I mean my mom was interested in him at some point, and I've seen her taste in men. No thanks, I'm fine where I am for now," Rusty answered him honestly.

"I get that, but…" Leslie trailed off. For once, he seemed like he was trying not to offend.

"But what?" "How do you know it won't be a bigger disappointment to _never_ know who he is?" Leslie asked him.

Rusty shrugged indifferently. It wasn't like he hadn't thought about meeting his real father. Ever since Sharon handed him that bright red manila folder, it was all that he thought about.

How would he look? Would they have a similar personality? Similar interests? The same color hair? What did he do? Did he own a house? Have a wife? Other kids? Kids that he'd raised from birth… Did he even know he had a son? Did he remember his mother?

"Let's talk about something else," He decidedly stated. The older teen across from him nodded his head once and shrugged his shoulders, effortlessly flowing into the next topic of conversation.

"So, I'm going to this gallery opening tonight. It's called _Lit. _ I hear the headlining artist is a total dick, but his work is pretty impressive. You wanna go?"

"I'm going," Rusty answered, "The so called dick works for Sam. The magazine is sponsoring the event."

"No, shit," Leslie said, "Well, I guess I'll see you there then…"

**TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

"Don't tell me you're going to work? Damn it Sharon."

Sharon turned to see Sam's furrowed brow and straight pressed lips, hands on her hips.

"No," Sharon answered, "I'm going with you… Calm down."

"Oh," Sam's face relaxed immediately, "Well, you look like you're going to work."

Sharon reflected on her outfit in the mirror that was the closet door. Admittedly, the dress pants and blazer over her purple top did look a little less like she were going to a big gallery opening and more like she were just getting in from work, but there wasn't much she could do about that now.

"The cleaner's lost the dress I was planning to wear," Sharon sneered, still upset at the loss of the two hundred dollar red number that she caught on sale the week before.

"Well, Baby you have other dresses...And so do I…" Sam offered as she reached into the back of the closet and pulled out one of Sharon's favorite black dresses that Sam wore. It was loose fitting, solid black, quarter length sleeved, close neckline in the front, extremely low cut in the back, and the hem stopped just about three inches above the knees. It was stunning on her and she turned more than a few heads every time she wore it. The other woman neatly tossed the garment onto the bed next to the light blue playfully silky dress she'd pulled out earlier.

"What do you think?" Sam asked her opinion of the two dresses. "The black one," Sharon answered without hesitation. Sam slipped into the dress in record time, and Sharon couldn't resist stepping closer for a better look. Sam chuckled at her, "You're ogling."

"Mmm," Sharon hummed as she wrapped her arms around the other woman, feeling the bare skin of the small of Sam's back. Damn, that dress. "Let's skip this thing tonight. Spend the weekend in bed…with the door locked." She felt a sneaky hand removing her blazer. "That sounds amazing," Sam said. Her lips ghosted just over Sharon's, their breaths mingled, and Sharon hoped against hope that this was an actual possibility. The blazer hit the floor.

"Wear the blue dress," Sam suggested. She kissed Sharon quickly, and much to Sharon's disappointment didn't linger before she pulled away with a wink. Resigned, Sharon picked up the silkier of Sam's options. A dress that looked fine on Sam, but just wasn't Sharon's style…or size. "Honey, I can't wear this…"

"No… not that. _ Your_ blue dress…the dark one. I really like it on you." Sam headed to the bathroom, presumably to apply her makeup and fix her hair. A task which Sharon had already beat her to.

After she changed into the dark blue dress that Sam suggested, Sharon grabbed her black jacket and headed into the living room to wait. She'd grown accustomed to having to wait on Sam to get ready anytime they went out, especially to one of these events. Luckily for her, her job permitted her to be absent most of these things. The media attention they got made Sharon a little uncomfortable, an emotion she didn't wear well.

The clanging of glass against glass caught her consideration as she exited the hallway. Around the corner, Rusty was busy loading the dishwasher. Incorrectly, Sharon noticed.

"Ah, ah… Glasses go…" Sharon corrected him as she moved to stand in front of the sink, next to the open door of the dishwasher. "On the top," Rusty said, "Sorry."

He removed the few glasses from the bottom and placed them on the top shelf and shut the door.  
Sharon smiled at him. He looked pretty handsome in his smooth white button up. A far cry from the wife beater and black ski mask he'd worn like a beanie the first day she laid eyes on him in the interrogation room of major crimes.

She noticed the red folder sitting on the counter behind Rusty, and wondered if he'd made a decision about his father yet.

"So," she started as she walked over to the folder and placed her hand on the file, "You went through this information on your father?"

"My biological father," Rusty corrected her. He was now clearing the table of the placemats.

"Who comes with biological grandparents…Aunts…Uncles—?"

"An uncle you found off a DNA hit of a cocaine user in San Diego," Rusty scoffed as he returned the placemats to their rightful home in the drawer under the sink.

"Your father shouldn't be held responsible for his brother's behavior," Sharon reminded him.

Rusty rolled his eyes and sighed. At this time Sam entered the kitchen and spun around to show off her dress. Her hair was neatly tied around itself into a bun in the back of her head, which allowed Sharon to see practically her entire back. "You look great," Sharon complimented with a smile.

"You don't look so bad yourself. I don't know why you were pretending you didn't know what to wear earlier…" Sam joked as she kissed Sharon firmly on the cheek.

"Yes, everybody looks awesome," Rusty sarcastically interrupted, "Can we talk about my so called Dad's conduct?"

"You look nice too, Rusty," Sam laughed and rested her arm on the older woman's shoulder. The two women looked at each other half amused at the teenager's dramatics. "What about your father's conduct?" Sam asked.

"Well, he never once even tried to track me down. That doesn't sound very fatherly to me."

"Rusty, you never knew about your father. There's a possibility he doesn't know about you either," Sharon continued to reason.

"Or maybe he just doesn't care," Rusty said.

Sharon sighed at a loss for words, a little tired of having the same argument. She was only trying to make Rusty understand that he might one day regret not wanting to take this possibly life changing opportunity to know where he comes from.

"Rusty, what if your father isn't the bad guy you're anticipating him to be?" Sam asked him.

Rusty shrugged, "What if he is? What have _my_ parents ever done for me? Really?"

Sharon sighed. She understood that Rusty was skeptical about the outcome of meeting his father, but she was afraid if she didn't convince him that it was worth the risk she would be letting him down.

"Rusty, I know you are leaning away from meeting your father, but I urge you to consider that decision carefully. Now that we know you have family, you may enjoy meeting them," she told him as she walked toward the door.

"And living with them too…" he said. A statement that possibly revealed his true reason for not wanting to meet his father.

"Rusty," Sam said, "We aren't trying to get rid of you." Her voice was one of dismay that echoed Sharon's own inner sentiment.

"In fact, if you weren't here, we'd miss you," Sharon added, "But I feel an obligation to do—"

"What's best for me… I know," Rusty finished her sentence with a heavy shrug of his shoulders.

Sam stepped forward and put her arm around his shoulders sympathetically.

"Come on, we're going to be late enough as it is," She said.

* * *

"Half an hour into this thing, and I still can't find the alcohol," Sam complained, "And I'm already ready to leave."

"You're ready? I haven't even seen my friend. You think he ditched me?" Rusty asked nervously.

"Are you nervous?' Sam asked. She hoped that Rusty would talk more about his friend, anything to distract from the fact that Blake had just made eye contact. Luckily, that was the third time he'd done so since they'd arrived. Someone was avoiding her just as much as she was avoiding him.

Discreetly, Sam turned her head back to Rusty.

"No," Rusty said, "Just don't like it when people aren't where they say they're going to be."

"Maybe he's just late like we were," Sharon said, a light jab at Sam's poor punctuality.

"Or he was on time and I'm the one who stood him up," Rusty pointed out.

"What was it, a date?"

"No," Rusty snapped. He looked impatiently around the room.

"Relax," Sam laughed at him, "He's probably just around somewhere. This is a big place."

And it was an incredible space. Who would have known that Sara had the funds to put this all together? Three rooms separated the different exhibits. Angels and devils over shadowed one another from painting to painting in the room that they were currently walking through, in a ghoulish theme of good vs. evil.

"Yea, I'm going to go look for him," Rusty said before he headed on to the next room.

"Oh, look who it is," Sharon motioned her head slightly to the right. Sam looked over and noticed the red head in the smooth black dress headed their way.

"She looks happy to see you," Sharon teased.

Sam rolled her eyes. Sharon was continually accusing Jenny of having a crush on her, but Sam refused to admit so. Instead, she liked to think that the college aged girl just had a high strung, overly appreciative, neurotic personality. An over achiever, intent on pleasing the boss, that is all it was. Honestly, that's all it ever seemed to be. The girl had never overtly made a pass at her.

"Hi, Ms. Grey. You look beautiful. Great dress," Jenny said.

"Thank you, Jenny." Sam always felt awkward when Jenny addressed her so formally, but it was useless. The girl refused to call her by her first name.

Jenny nodded her head politely, smiled uneasily and directed her attention to Sharon, "Captain Raydor, it's so good that you're here. You look great as well."

Sharon smiled politely, "Thank you Jenny. I'm happy to be here."

Sam caught the indulgent look on Sharon's face and she discreetly bumped her side with her elbow.

"Oh, Dr. Mendez is here as well," Jenny got straight to business. She always did.

"I can introduce you if you wa—"

"Oh, that's okay, Jenny. I can find him," Sam told her graciously, "You're my receptionist. Not my assistant. You don't have to work here."

Jenny smiled kindly and excused herself. She really was a sweet girl. Quirky, but sweet.

Sharon giggled under her breath. "Shut up," Sam mouthed silently.

"Isn't she a little young for you?"

"Look who's talking," Sam joked.

Sharon smiled in response, "Ha ha…"

"Samantha!" Sam knew who the voice belonged to before she turned to see.

"Blake," she answered him cordially.

He ran a sweaty palm through his sandy hair before sticking said palm out in front of him. She was not going to shake his hand. Blake took the hint and settled for an awkward pat on the shoulder. It took everything in her not to remove his grimy fingers forcefully, but Sharon put her arm around her effectively sending Blake's hand back into his pockets.

"We are so glad that you could make it," he said, then looked to Sharon, "You must be the famous Sharon. I've heard a lot about you."

"Likewise," Sharon replied curtly.

"We?" Sam asked.

Then, as if saying the word had magically conjured up the ghost of sisters past, there she appeared.

The ghost in a red dress wrapped both arms around Blake and smiled as if everything were normal and she had never been without him and never been gone.

"I was looking for you," She said to him with a kiss that left behind a stark red imprint on his cheek. He thumb wiped at the stain furiously. The imprint promptly and efficiently wiped away, she turned to Sam, who had watched the exchange with a distant rage. Sam looked to Sharon, unsure of how to react. The stoic woman was almost no help at all with her equally shocked expression. She only tightened her grip on Sam's hand.

"Well, we've certainly missed you," Sharon stated an almost accusatory tone to her voice.

"Sam," Sara smiled at her lovingly as she released Blake and pulled Samantha away from Sharon into her arms in a big bear of an embrace.

"I'm so happy to see you," she said.

Sam was at a loss for words as she studied her sister's face. She looked the same, sort of. Her hair was now blonde and cut fashionably close to her scalp, her makeup was darker than usual. Sam touched a short blonde lock now. "What the fuck did you do to you hair?" She asked.

Sara laughed, "I cut it. Do you like?"

"No, I don't," Sam said, "Where the fuck have you been?" She was angry and it was evident in her voice even though she kept her tempo down and her demeanor calm, despite the language.

Sara ignored her question and turned her attention to Sharon for a hug. This wasn't out of character and Sharon shouldn't have been surprised by the embrace, but she clearly was. Sara had always loved and gotten along with Sharon. The two women had become friends over the past year.

"I'm glad to see you too," Sara said with a friendly kiss to Sharon's cheek.

Sharon only smiled and was clearly going to politely return the sentiment, but Sam couldn't help but interrupt. It was all a little too phony for her liking and the shock of her sister suddenly appearing again without any explanation was out of the question. She wanted answers.

"Okay, that's enough," she said as she took Sara's hand angrily.

"Excuse us for a second," She told Sharon and a nervous looking Blake before she pulled her sister by her hand out of his hearing range.

"We need to talk," She told her sister.

"There's nothing to talk about right now," Sara told her calmly, "I had to go away for a while and now I'm back."

"Sara," Sam almost didn't know what to say. She had been worried about her sister for months and here she was. She was fine as far as she could tell. Sure, she was acting strange, but she wouldn't be Sara if she didn't come back with a totally different look and somewhat displaced personality. Sam thought about all of this with a heavy sigh.

"You know I was worried about you…Why didn't you call?"

"I'm sorry. I just needed to go, and I didn't want to talk about it."

"Why? Why do you always have to go somewhere? It's not usually…You don't leave without a reason, ever…You didn't even leave a note."

Nothing. No response except a look in Blake's direction from her sister.

"Where did you even go? Were you still in the state? The city? Are you okay?"

Sara just rolled her eyes and petulantly crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Is it Blake?"

"No….he's fine. We had some trouble but it's nothing now. I'm just dramatic…you know."

Sam noticed the scarf tied suspiciously snug around Sara's neck.

"Why do I always feel like I'm reciting the script of a bad lifetime movie with you?" She joked dryly, not really trying to be funny at all.

"Because life is a bad movie," Sara answered her. Her answer wasn't funny at all.

Sam fingered the edge of the soft material of the scarf; her sister nervously adjusted it. _Who wears a scarf with that dress? _Sam was having a flashback to ghost stories told around a beach campfire. Rested comfortably on her father's knee, he had always thought it fun to scare them. One story in particular rose to the forefront, about the lady whose head was held onto her body by a sturdy red scarf. The grim recollection made Sam release the fabric of her sister's garment carefully. Was she hiding a hicky? Bruising? Sam silently hoped for the former.

"Look," she said, "I'm glad you're back. I don't know why you didn't tell me you were back, and I'm pissed off about that. At least you're alive."

Sara shrugged, "Of course I'm alive. You know, you're not my mother. You don't always have to know where I am all the time."

"You were at Mom's," Sam stated. She should have known that Sharon would have been right all along. Sara's reaction only confirmed it.

"Look, you hate Mom. I know, but I didn't leave the house at thirteen okay. I was actually raised by the woman. I know her a lot better than you. She's not a bad person," Sara said harshly.

Sam didn't say anything, she knew that Sara had a completely different relationship with their mother than she, and she couldn't help the resentment that surfaced whenever she was reminded of the fact.

"She helps me, okay. I go there when I need a break."

"From?" Sam asked.

Sara was visibly choosing her response carefully. "From…my life," Sara said."

All words that Sam had heard from her sister before. She knew this conversation was going nowhere. A person never got anything out of Sara through means of interrogation. She decided to drop it… For now.

Sara was back. Maybe things could finally get back to normal.

They hugged awkwardly. A secret lingered between them. Unspoken words of apology and an unexplained absence clouded their reunion. Sam looked across the room at Blake, who was still making small talk with Sharon and another man whom Sam didn't recognize.

* * *

Rusty tensed at the two arms that had appeared around his waist from behind and looked up from the sink into the mirror to see the owner of the limbs smiling seductively in the reflection.

"What are you doing?" Rusty couldn't help but sound offended.

"What does it look like?" Leslie asked urging, with those hands that had so presumptuously surrounded him, Rusty to turn around so that their noses were nearly touching. Leslie moved in closer, an act which only caused Rusty anger. He thought that maybe Leslie had liked him for something other than this. A quickie in the men's restroom…in public. He was done with all of that, and he had hoped that Leslie could be his chance at an actual friendship. Yes, maybe he had a small crush, but this felt wrong. He felt easy. He should have never told him about what he had done before he came to live with Sharon.

"Stop," Rusty backed away.

"It's okay," Leslie continued. Undeterred, he brought his lips uncomfortably close to Rusty's. For a minute, he was happy. Because he had liked Leslie and was attracted to him of course. No, not like this. He didn't want anything like this from Leslie if this was all that the other boy wanted. He wasn't going to do this, not anymore. Was this all that guys wanted from him now? Was he damaged goods?

"Stop!" Rusty exclaimed. This time he pushed Leslie away a little harder than he had intended to, and Leslie crashed into the wall behind him.

"Okay," Leslie surrendered, his hands in front of him, "Jesus, I thought—"

"You thought what?" Rusty interrupted him angrily. Leslie's face looked completely shocked and confused, maybe a little hurt, but most of all offended. _He's offended? _Rusty thought with contempt.

"Nothing, I thought you….I thought we liked each other. You said you were going to the bathroom…I thought you wanted me to…"

"I had to use the restroom!" Rusty exclaimed a little too loudly.

"I'm sorry, Rusty. I thought you were giving me an opening. You're saying that there's nothing going on between us? We haven't been like sending each other signals all night?" Leslie explained himself defensively. He was starting to sound pissed off himself. He was right. He wasn't alone. Rusty had done his fair share of flirting with Leslie since he'd spotted the boy across the room.

Rusty didn't know what to say. He suddenly felt like maybe he overreacted, while at the same time he felt completely justified. Leslie could very well have thought he was easy. Just a little street whore, who would fuck anyone, anywhere, anytime. That was not what he wanted to be. Leslie was the only kid in school that knew about his other life, and he felt completely used.

"Well…Say something. I feel like an asshole here," Leslie said.

Rusty didn't know what to say to express how disappointed and pissed off he was. He left the restroom with a slam of the door.

* * *

Sharon looked up at the painting in front of her, glad that Blake had relieved himself of the dreadful obligation of small talk.

"It's an okay painting. If you ask me, the artist is trying a little too hard."

Sharon was a startled at the familiar sound of a voice that she heard almost daily.

"Buzz," Sharon said with a smile, genuinely happy to see a friendly face.

"I didn't know you were an art critic," she continued lightly.

"I'm not, really. I was here with a date, but," He shrugged, "You know…"

Sharon nodded her head understanding. She wondered where her own date had disappeared to.

"I wouldn't expect to see you here, Captain," Buzz told her curiously.

"I wouldn't be…I'm here with someone as well….Believe it or not."

Buzz nodded his head a little awkwardly. It did feel odd to be talking to the techie of major crimes outside the office, but…everyone had a life outside of work.

A familiar forced laughter filled her ears and she focused her attention, just over Buzz's shoulder, on the two women walking toward them, arms interlocked. Sam looked relieved to see her, and that made Sharon smile genuinely.

"Sharon," Sam said relieved as she arrived just an arm's reach away.

"Thank God," She finished through gritted teeth, trading her sister's arm for Sharon's. Sara looked unreadable, not that Sharon could tell what she was feeling before the disappearance, but they had been close enough. She didn't miss the curious look on Buzz's face.

Sharon discreetly rubbed Sam's tense back, and pulled away from the contact quickly. An action that surprised herself. She wasn't used to being around Sam in such a casual setting around someone that she worked with. She'd gotten over the self conscious stage of being in an open lesbian relationship in public a long time ago, but those old feelings did occasionally sneak up on her, much to Sam's disliking.

"Who is this?" Sam asked, referring to Buzz. Sharon was inwardly relieved that Sam didn't seem to notice her shyness in front of Buzz.

"Oh, Sam this is Buzz. He works with the LAPD…Buzz, this is Samantha Grey. And Sara Grey," She introduced them.

"Nice to meet you," Sam told him. She sounded genuinely excited for the first time all night.

"It's rare that I get to meet anyone that Sharon works with," She told him while shooting Sharon an accusing stare. Maybe she had noticed.

"It's uh…nice to meet you as well. I've seen you before… At work," Buzz pointed out, "I love your magazine. It's really great".

"Thank you, and I knew you looked familiar," Sam responded.

"So, you're a cop?" Sara asked Buzz. Flirtatiously? Sharon couldn't tell, but she could swear that Sara had brushed her shoulder against his. She looked to Sam to see if she had indeed seen what she thought. Sam seemed just as amazed, but there was also some hope in her eyes.

"No…" Buzz told her, "I'm a civilian I just work with the police. Computer…stuff."

"Hey, computers are great…technology and all that," Sara said.

"What do you think of the art?" She asked.

"I think…the artist is talented, but…It's not really my style," he answered honestly.

Sam said something inaudible under her breath. "Well, what do you think?" Sara turned her attention to her sister.

"I uh…can't really be objective. It's…something."

Sharon had to agree. It was _something._

Sara was staring at Buzz again, trying clumsily to make small talk. He only smiled at her awkwardly. He didn't seem unwelcoming to Sara, who was now clearly and without a doubt flirting with him, while at the same time speaking about her boyfriend. If anything, Buzz seemed embarrassed and thankful when his cell phone interrupted the exchange.

"I'm sorry," He said, "I have to get this." He glanced at the captain for a second. Sharon hoped that wasn't….

She felt her phone vibrate in the pocket of her blazer. _Damn it!_ She thought. She had hoped to be going home tonight.

She excused herself from the conversation as well. Just as she heard Sara say, "He's cute."

* * *

Sam rolled her eyes when Sharon stepped away. It was too late for it to be anything other than murder.

Sam watched her sister shamelessly gawk at Buzz. She cleared her throat.

Sara shrugged her shoulders, "Just stating a fact."

"Hey," Sam said, "You are as available as you want to be."

She would encourage any interest that wasn't Blake's interest.

"Hmm," Sara said unappreciatively, "Speaking of. I'd better go find Blake."

She squeezed Sam's hand and left. Sam let her go. Funny that all she'd wanted to do the last two months was talk to her sister, and now it seemed she couldn't be more tired of her presence than she was at that moment.

"I've gotta go," Rusty said.

"Well, I haven't seen you all night," Sam said to the boy who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

He looked upset and not at all in a joking mood.

"Okay," Sam said, "Sharon's about to have to leave anyway, and I am more than ready to go."

"I've gotta go," Sharon said, finished with her call.

"So, do we," Sam said, "But I'm guessing you're not coming home with us…"

Sam was more than disappointed. Not only did this mean that their weekend was cut short; it meant that she wouldn't have Sharon's full attention again until tomorrow morning. Even that was being optimistic.

"No," Sharon confirmed apologetically, "There's been a murder, but I can drop you guys off at home first…"

"That's fine," Sam said as she began a beeline for the exit.

"Hey," Sharon grabbed her arm to stop her, "Everything alright?"

"I don't know," Sam sighed and they continued to walk.

"How did things go with Sara?"

"I'll tell you about it later," Sam said, "Let's just go home."


End file.
